Infest
by stay-stark
Summary: Dr. Chase Stark is the newest addition to the staff at Arkham Asylum. But with the Joker, Scarecrow and Two-Face messing with her mind and the Batman's frequent visits, can she keep her sanity? Bruce/OC/Joker
1. Vantage Point

A/N: This is one of those spur of the moment kind of fanfics that wouldn't leave my mind. Enjoy.

**Dedicated to**: Maegen V. and her broken knee. _LOVE YOU!!! _

***

The view of Arkham Asylum from the outside was terrifying. It made me shiver but I tried to keep my optimism. It's my possible new work place, I can't be frightened by the building!

I showed the security guards my badge of approval as I reached the entrance. Neither returned my smile, just gave me sad, sympathetic looks.

I entered and was almost immediately disappointed. The inside was as bad as the outside!

From what I've been told, there are seven floors plus the basement. The basement is now for solitary confinement and medical supplies, which I find beyond stupid. The first floor is the lobby, supposedly the quietest spot for visitors but even here, you can hear the screaming. The next five floors are for the patients/prisoners. I'm unfamiliar with the labels. And I believe the sixth floor are where the evaluations take place. The top floor are for the doctors, where I'm heading to now.

The one elevator was packed and unable to get my usual run in this morning, I took the stairs. Unfortunately for me, the only way to get to the top from the stairs is go upon flight of stairs, enter the floor from a stairwell, go all the way across the floor--passing several, if not every, cell with a some sort of demented criminal--only to have to enter a different stairwell to repeat the process!

I was on the fifth floor when a figure in a cell caught my attention. I don't know what made me stop until I realized there weren't any screams coming from this area. An occasional moan could be heard but it seemed pretty sedate on this floor compared to the others. But then again, it could have been the occupants lax position on the floor. But who knows? Definitely not me.

I turned to face him fully but it took several moments for his identity to sink in. He was the infamous Joker. Having never felt the horror he smothered over Gotham, I found his presence bearable. Similar to standing next to a stranger at the local bus stop. You're fine just as long as they don't get too close.

I probably wouldn't have been able to recognize the criminal if it weren't for his scars. His depiction was totally altered. Gaudy purple and green suit, replaced by a slightly dingy, white jumpsuit (no shoes in sight). His lightly tinted green hair was washed out. Thin locks of greasy, dirty blond hair rested in even waves on his head, reaching just above shoulder blade level. His face was scrubbed clean of make-up, leaving nothing but a man with scars.

He looks at me with his charcoal black eyes and gives me a smile, the demented kind that makes you cringe.

"Why, uh, hel-lo there." His voice was pitched higher than one of a regular adult male, making him seem insincere. The pronunciation of the words were drawn out and the really random stutter sounded off to my trained ears.

I opened my mouth to reply but was cut off by a voice shouting, "HEY!"

I jumped at the urgency of the voice and turn to see an older man running towards me.

"What are you doing here?" he snaps at me, grabbing my arm. "No unauthorized personal are allowed on this floor!"

"I was on my way to an interview," I stutter out, my eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Why would he act so hostile towards me?

"And you didn't think to take the elevator?"

"It was packed," I tried to reason. His grip loosened just slightly but it was till rather firm.

The man opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the high voice of the Joker saying, "Well, if it isn't my dear fri-end, Com-mis-sioner Gor-don. Why, uh, the sudden vis-it?" We both look at the Joker, an odd grin on his face, brandishing his immortal smile to its possible peak.

I look at the man known as Commissioner Gordon from the corner of my eye to catch his reaction.

The expression on his face could be described as grim, but there was also an anger, better yet, a hatred towards this man. A hardened glare was set directly on the Joker and the deep frown was the exact polar. His jaw was clenched and it seemed s though he were fighting against the urge to retort.

"Umm…" I say after a moment, breaking the silence. "I'm about to be late for my interview." The Commissioner looks at me and stares for a moment. "Could you let me go?" I further explain, chuckling to loosen the tension.

He looks to his hand which is still gripping my upper arm before muttering, "Oh." He releases me and replies, "Sorry. I'm not comfortable with people around this monster." There was no remorse for using such a word but then again, he was referring to the Joker. Mass murderer, sociopath, Hell bent on the destruction of Gotham.

"It's okay," I reply, trying not to stress the man further.

"I'll escort you," Gordon says, trying to make amends. "So, you don't get into trouble. It's the least I can do." The look on his face suggested he was truly sorry for his actions. And he was right; it **was** the least he could do.

"Okay," I agree with a small shrug of the shoulder. He begins to lead the way and not more than two cells down does he stop.

_**"Leaving so soon?"**_ The Joker calls after us. But his voice was no longer light and airy, it was instead a deep, feral growl.

It was then that reality crashed down on me. Where I was, what criminals were around, so many criminals…And then there was him, the Joker. His maniacal laughter rand through the air, echoing off the walls and into the halls of Arkham Asylum.

The laughter was worse than the screams.


	2. Introductions

-2-

To say that my interview went without a hitch, would be the complete and honest truth. Commissioner Gordon pulled through on his word and escorted me to Dr. Andrew Walc - who was more than excited to see me. Apparently, his previous applicant chickened out and I was the last of potential prospects. His enthusiasm covered Gordon's lack thereof.

Our rather long walk up was, in lack of more pleasant words, awkward. He tried to make conversation but it seemed more like he was criticizing my work choice. He then proceeded to note that my age (twenty-six) did not match my appearance. I couldn't disagree with him but it didn't make me like him anymore. I didn't really bother to ask him questions after that. And the Joker was still in my mind.

His laughter… It was just so _demented_. No one should laugh like that, ever. I'm also incredibly curious as to why he would even laugh. Was he laughing at me, at Gordon? Or was it just in his nature?

After my interview, I was smart enough to take the elevator. Screw the exercise. I can run later.

Some time later, I had made it back to my apartment. Try not to be surprised as I explain how _lavish _it is.

Boxes, empty and full but mainly empty, were stacked high and all around, making it more than difficult to enter the apartment let alone live here. The apartment itself isn't of low quality, just not exactly the penthouse. I could have had a penthouse if I had asked, but I didn't want to be in further debt. But I rather like it. It has a high ceiling, wood flooring and is more spacious than my last apartment.

When first entering it's a huge rectangle, stretching longer on the left and than the right of the entrance. To the left is a very neatly situated kitchen, island and all. It was different from any other kitchen I've ever had for the fact that it was so open and it didn't take up much room either. It was simplistic but stylish, and two long strides from the end of the counter were a couple of stairs that led into the living room. I trip over them occasionally. The steps stretched across the entire length of the apartment. The right corner led to a nice spare bathroom, which I had yet to furnish.

I nimbly walked around the boxes and made my way to my bedroom, which was down a small hallway that was placed in the far left corner of the living room. My room, unlike the rest of my apartment was somewhere between organized and messy. Organized, as in I know where everything is and there was not a single box in sight, and messy, as in the clothes on the floor and the random cup or bowl. I ignored it all as I proceeded to my bathroom.

Turning on my radio and stripping down to my birthday suit, I wondered if I'd get the job. I need a job and I've worked too damn hard for my education to not get a job in my degree. And even though I shouldn't think like this, I don't _really _need a job. No worries, I'm not a rich daddy's girl - my best friend is just a trophy wife that gives excellent blow jobs. She pays for just about everything I do but I don't want such a dependency. If I were to become immersed in the security, I would just move in with her and smoke my days. A bit hypocritical considering I was almost a doctor; both are bad for my health.

My shower was quick but gave me the time to clean off any invisible grime that clung to me from Arkham. It really is a place of complete loathing but maybe I can make myself into someone, or at least learn to live with the guilt and anger that tainted every inhabitant of that dwelling.

Dressed in some relatively warm clothing and with my dark hair in a neat plait, I continued my quest of setting up my living room. Or maybe my office. Most of my stuff went to my bedroom but a lot of my paper work and books would be more appropriate in my office.

My office is on the opposite side of wall of my bedroom and set more to the middle of the width than in the corner. It's smaller than my relatively large bedroom but it's amazing comfortable if only a little unnecessary. I'd be more than willing to put all of my in my closet and since my computer went boom, I've learned the advantages of laptops. But nonetheless, I went of work of setting it up. Starting with loading on of my many bookshelves with my books.

I stayed in that room for a little over an hour before calling in some take-out and relaxing on one of the white couches that Maegen, the best friend, was more than willing to provide. It was definitely nicer than my last couch and I would probably end up falling asleep on it if I weren't careful.

I ended up dozing off and waking to the doorbell going off. It was take-out.

The rest of the night was pretty boring. I ate, continued to clean, watched a bit of TV in my room, rechecked to make sure that all the doors were locked, and the fell asleep.

Waking up the next morning, I realized that I hadn't set up an alarm. It was a bit after ten when I woke up and I realized that I had several missed called from Maegen, two new voicemails, and a few text messages.

The first was from my mom. She lived back in Texas, and it was a simple: _Are you ok?_It's become a bit of a ritual of ours. Call every Sunday but text once in the morning. If no reply by noon, call the cops. I quickly sent her a 'yep' and proceeded to look through the rest of my messages. Some were from my friends, asking me how I was doing up in Gotham and if I had found myself a man yet.

Awkward.

I listened to my voicemails next. The first was from Maegen, telling me to call her and the second was from Mr. Walc's secretary.

I got the job.

Smiling to myself, I continued to lounge in my bed and stretch carelessly before getting ready for the day. A pleasant euphoria was running through my system and I couldn't erase the smile from my face. Even as I stumbled into the coffee shop that across the street forty minutes later.

"Sorry," I quickly apologized to the man I had nearly fallen into. Straightening myself, I found myself surprised at the man before me.

He was tall, good looking, great bone structure and suspiciously familiar. Upon noticing my gaze, he smiled and I smiled back before offering my hand.

"Chase Stark."

"Bruce Wayne," he replied, shaking my hand.

Pausing, I cocked my head to the side and my gaze became curious.

"Am I supposed to know you?" I asked, hoping to sound as innocent as I was.

He gave a small shrug, pulling away from me. "Depends who you are." I chuckled at this. "Have a nice day."

"You too." I side-stepped him and made my way to the front counter.

I ordered coffee and a muffin before returning to my apartment. Not much of a breakfast, I know, but it's enough to hold me over to lunch, which is actually pretty soon.

I called Maegen when I returned to the apartment. She's in the Bahamas with her husband, Lucas. Our conversation was short and simple.

"How are you?"

"Fabulous. You?"

"Pretty good. I got the job."

"Yay!"

"Yeah, I start tomorrow. And I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"What-ever!" She laughs. "Do you wanna go shopping when I get back?"

"I won't buy anything."

"Course you won't! I will!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll talk to you later."

"Fine. Pick up the phone next time I call!"

"BYE."

"Bye."

After our very brief conversation, I continued to unpack before eating the left over Chinese for lunch. For some reason, I thought it would be best if I were to stay in today. The only place I could think of to go anyway would be the park, and I would probably look like a child molester if I were there by myself right now. Not that I'm so sure if it's safe at night either. There's a bookshop around here that looked promising (from the outside) but reading doesn't fit me much right now.

I lounged around the apartment for the rest of the day. I ordered Vietnamese for dinner and watched the news before going to bed, wondering if work would be any interesting tomorrow.

The first week at Arkham Asylum wasn't so bad as I thought it would be. It was, for the most, part a form of orientation. Dr. Christopher Doyle, one of my coworkers, was kind enough to show me the ropes and help me with the filing system that Arkham was practically built off of. He was also very helpful at giving me tabs on my patients. Apparently, when a psychiatrist becomes bored or overwhelmed with a project, it gets passed to the next person in line.

To my surprise, there were a few cases that were known as extensive projects that included the entire faculty. There were only a few patients that fell into that category but they were as follows: Scarecrow, Joker, and Two-Face.

The Joker, I had expected. I've been avoiding his cell since our first encounter but my turn was quickly approaching on the list that was kept in the staff lounge. Just three more days and I would get my turn. Christopher told me that most sessions only lasted an hour or so, but primarily because the staff refused to spend more time with him than necessary.

Scarecrow was a bit of a surprise. I remember when he was still Jonathan Crane. Before I had changed my career goals, Maegen forced me up here to meet her fiancé. And she dragged me to one of her psychology classes which featured the _lovely _Dr. Crane.

"He is so sexy," Maegen had stated with a grin. "But he's completely insane."

I had laughed it off, thinking she was joking, until I had actually gotten to the class. She was right on both accounts; he was _very _pretty, and then he opened his mouth.

His lecture for that class was over the difference between right and wrong. Rights, privacy, the greater good were all questioned and evaluated. It was interesting enough but I noticed that Dr. Crane's perceptions were…perhaps, immoral. Most of the students hadn't bothered to question him and what was almost an hour after his lecture began, a loud snort was heard from the front row. Someone had just awoken from his deep slumber.

To my astonishment, Dr. Crane called the forward to stand next to him at the base level. They stood shoulder to shoulder, allowing every difference between the two men become even more pronounced, and the entire class seemed more entranced by what they were witnessing.

"Now," Dr. Crane began speaking, voice like honey while slowing walking around his stage. "Mr. Luray here is a junior, with a 2.8 GPA and is the star quarterback." A whoop came from the back and a few students chuckled, Maegen included. The quarterback, Luray, seemed pleased with himself and allowed a grin. Dr. Crane, however, was not amused. "But he drinks and drives, causes several disturbances throughout his years, and is accused of several accounts of rape."

Any laughter or happy feeling was wiped away in an instant. Every student had wide eyes and all were directed on Luray, who looked like he wanted to vomit, but Dr. Crane continued.

"Although there is no evidence to such events, there are suspicions. Does that make Mr. Luray a good man or a bad man?"

It was a simple enough question but how could anyone answer it?

"If he did do it, then he deserves to go to jail," a petite Asian remarked from in front of us. "And if he didn't-"

"Then he's still a menace to society," Dr. Crane finished for her, completely unabashed as to what he was suggesting. "He knowingly puts others in harms way and continues to do so, even thought it is _wrong_."

He had used the word so mockingly that I was surprised the tall blond in the front row even bothered to answer.

"But how can it be so wrong if society refuses to do anything about it?"

"Exactly!" Dr. Crane exclaimed, using the loudest tone I had heard thus far. "So we must do it ourselves."

The whole class was entranced as he walked to his corner desk, which was beautifully kept, and opened a drawer. He pulled something out but I was seated too far to notice what was in his hand. It was a bit annoying but it was a bit childish on my part as well. He placed the arm with the object behind his back and took a stand a bit further back.

"Would it be wrong if I disposed of Mr. Luray?"

At this point, Luray was becoming more and more uncomfortable and I doubt that the silence did much for him. I, however, was curious as to where this discussion was headed.

Was Dr. Crane attempting to justify murder?

"Yes," a red head boy said as though it were the easiest question in the world. "Murder is wrong. The government is supposed to see to the accused and guilty."

"But would you be saying that if it were your sister that was attacked?" Good question. "Would you, Mr. Rodriguez, stand by and watch your sister suffer while a guilty man walked away, unscathed?"

Although I couldn't see his face, there was no doubt a mask of uncertainty plaguing his face.

"No," he finally answered, truthfully.

"But we don't know if he did it!" the jock from the back of the room exclaimed.

Dr. Crane contemplated this for a moment.

"So you don't believe Mr. Luray deserves the penalty of death?"

"Of course not!"

"Then how about a bum leg?"

Before anyone could reply, he pulled his arm forward to reveal the object in his hand. There was no time to gasp as a loud bang rang through the air and Mr. Luray was suddenly on the floor, groaning in pain and clutching his left leg.

"Is it _right_?" Dr. Crane shouted, a mix between laughter and bitterness, waving the gun in the air without a care.

A girl screamed and then another, but as the count mounted, all I could hear was Dr. Crane's laughter.

"We've gotta get outta here!" Maegen frantically whispered, grabbing my hand. But I couldn't find it in me to move. That, and the rest of the class was rushing for the door.

"I've gotta help the boy," I replied before pulling away from her and making my way to the base level. Crane was still too busy laughing and talking to himself in jumbled exhorts of praise to notice me as I went to kneel next to the boy.

The details are a bit fuzzy, but Luray survived. He lost his football scholarship though. Crane was arrested and claimed insanity. He was sentenced to three years in Arkham Asylum, but I really didn't care. I was already back in Texas and was worrying about my education more than anything.

I have no idea how Crane had become Scarecrow, and I can't make myself care. He's here, after running the place, and I get to be the one teaching him a lesson. Not that it'll do him much; he's insane.

Two-Face was probably the biggest shock. I thought he had died. I mean, that's what the news said anyway. I went to Chris and he was startled that Dr. Walc hadn't made me sign a confidentiality report beforehand. He took me to him right away.

Dr. Walc seemed very flustered and extremely embarrassed at his error. He kept stuttering his apologizes to Chris and myself, and muttering about his confusion.

Secrets were always my strong suit, so I really had to problem keeping the secret. It was just a bit odd, in a perfectly sensible way. Two-Face/Harvey was once a good man and to throw him in a prison where he sent to many men, would be inhumane. And who knows, maybe he's not past help. He's smart and competent and a good man. _I'm sure of it._

… My coworkers, however, are adamant in their belief that he will never recover enough to be placed back into society successfully.

"His views are warped," Diane Crosby began to explain to me one day. "Everything to him really is nothing but chance."

"Like, probability?" I questioned, leaning against the wall of her neat office. I wish mine was this neat.

"In essence," she replied before having to race off to her next evaluation. I didn't mind, Chris was showing me to my first _real assignment._


	3. A Taste of Arkham

Ha, sorry about the wait. First semester of college and all. Plus, I've sustained two injuries and I've lost an aunt. My life has kind of sucked so please forgive me. This chapter is short, I guess, but I'm working on the next chapter and I'll update depending on the reaction to this chapter. A couple of things: Do you think she's too young and what of the Joker's pronunciation in the first chapter? Should I continue that or not? Let me know in that awesome review you'll leave and super thanks to anyone and everyone!

-3-

"Her name is Megan Trojacek," Chris told me as I looked over the rest of her paperwork. It was a bit odd that my first patient's name was Megan and my best friends was Maegen. Odd indeed. "She turns seventeen in a few weeks, been here for almost three years."

"Three years?" I repeated, "What did she do?"

"Brutally killed her father, two brothers, and boyfriend," he explained before yawning into his palm. I wondered briefly if I would become so used to psychopaths that their crimes would no longer affect me. "Sorry about that. Kids had me up all night."

"You have kids?" Kids make me enthusiastic.

"Twins," he paused as we approached the elevator, pushing the button.

"I didn't even know you were married!" I exclaimed with a big grin.

"Yeah," he replied softly, glancing down at his hand. Following his gaze, I finally noticed the wedding band on his finger. He held up his left hand and looked at me with a soft intensity. "Six and a half years. Fell in love during college and I never had eyes for anyone else."

"Awww…"

He laughed and the elevator doors opened. We quickly entered and the smile refused to leave my face.

"You can come by my office sometime and look at the pictures. I have some in my wallet as well, but I'm seeing Kimberly today." He glanced over and saw my confused look before continuing. "She's on the third floor, likes to pickpockets and bite."

"What does she do with what she steals?"

"I don't want to know."

It was my turn to laugh but it quickly left when the elevator stopped at the sixth floor. Chris automatically noticed my apprehension but could do nothing to console me as the doors opened.

Before us stood a three men: one in a guards uniform, one in the male nurses uniform, and the last in a straight jacket. The men in uniform had the other in between them and in a death grip. The middle man was short and had his shaved head in a constant tilt, slightly cross-eyed and was somewhere in his mid-thirties. With more force than what seemed necessary, the two taller men dragged the patient into the elevator.

I supposed that's something else about Arkham - the lack of elevators. There's so much traffic sometimes and even though I haven't heard anything, there's an odd stain on the carpeted floor that lets me know that something has happened before that wasn't so pleasant. When I questioned Mr. Walc about the lack of more elevators, he couldn't really explain it either. He just kept mumbling about construction and cost and interference with the day-to-day evaluations and cells. It would've been _really _easy to argue safety regulations, but it's Mr. Walc. I just feel so bad when I see him. Like, I pity him for no reason. I can't explain it really.

As the men trampled into the elevator, I tried not to think about the uncomfortable tension in the air. I just need to go down one more story and I'll be on my way to see Miss Trojacek.

That reminds me of something else I've learned about Arkham. All of the staff is really nice, except when they're on the job. Like, the guards and male nurses are tough bastards. And even Diane goes into 'I'm superior and a tight ass' mode when she's making her way to a patient. It's interesting. It's a progressive and manageable mood swing that I will probably never conquer.

The elevator gave a soft ding as it reached my floor and I easily slid past the men to get to the main floor. Unlike Chris, who is just under six foot, I'm a petite 5'5". I may not be able to reach the top shelf but I can crawl through tiny spaces with ease.

It amused me to watch Chris try to awkwardly bypass the guards without going as far to touch them. During the brief moment, I noticed the patients bemused expression. It was unnerving and so…innocent.

But then Chris was standing next to me and the doors were closing.

"Who was that?" I asked, still staring at the elevator doors.

"Terrance Latching," Chris replied dully, a twinge of pity lacing his words. "His whole family was murdered ten years or so ago. He went completely mental, enough to end up here. He never says anything but he's brilliant at board games."

"Why were they handling him so roughly?" I hadn't really meant to let the question slip and I tried to ignore the disapproving look that Chris was sending me.

"He's very dangerous, Chase," he said slowly, letting me process the words. "He could escape at any moment."

"But he seems harmless."

"Don't let that façade fool you. He is twice as brilliant as both of us put together." At my confused look, he elaborated. "His IQ is over 200."

"Whoa." My amazement was evident by my heavy Valley girl tone. I cleared my throat awkwardly in embarrassment but when I looked back at Chris, he seemed back to his normal self. Well, as normal as he could get.

"Come on now, Dr. Stark. We wouldn't want you to be late," he chided playfully, which caused me to laugh.

He lead me down the hall and down several side paths to get the room where the examination would take place. Holding the girls file close to me, I hesitated when I reached for the knob.

This isn't my first patient, not really. I worked with a lot of people and patients through my intern and resident years and I've done a hell of a good job, but somehow, this is different. And not a bad different, just not a good different. I've never worked or even dealt with people like this. I mean-

"You'll do fine," Chris spoke, pulling me from my revere. I looked at him before he continued. "She's not as tough as you think she'll be. She's actually very fragile, most of the time. Just be careful with your words."

I didn't find his advice comforting by any means. But I grasped the doorknob in my hand and twisted and pulled.

Stepping through the threshold, I found the room to be almost exactly like all the other ones. Clean, white, cold. It was bigger and the fluorescent lights didn't flicker ominously. And then there was the girl sitting in the corner of the room, gently drawing circles on the floor with her thin index finger. She hadn't even noticed my presence.

My last assumption became very wrong as her icy blue eyes snapped to mine. I kept my face impassive as she stared me up and down, taking in as much as her vision allowed. I took the moment to do the same.

Unlike Mr. Latching, she was dressed in a grey unisex outfit and after a moment, did not seem the least bit interested in me. Her light brown hair was straight and short, ending just about her shoulders. She was a remarkable shade of pale and she was rather thin. Not too thin but enough to make me wonder.

I swallowed my fear and tried to focus.

"Would you like to take a seat?" I asked, gesturing to the chair. She continued to stare for a moment before getting up and sluggishly making her way to the chair. She's just so small and _fragile_.

Taking the seat opposite of hers, I wonder briefly if there's anything _too _special about this girl.

Opening the folder, I take a scan of her previous doctor's note. It was an extensive list of notes, discussions, sensitive subjects, mannerisms and such. There was a bolded note that was written in red ink that caught my attention…

"Who are you?" My head snapped up as the high-pitched voice asked the question. Her icy blue eyes were wide as she stared at me and I could only smile at the innocence.

"I'm Dr. Chase Stark," I replied.

And then she began screaming.

It was absolutely horrid hearing such a shrieking scream coming from such a small girl who was fine moments ago. She was relentless in her fit and seemed unwilling to stop. She pranced around her half of the room and bucked wildly and although it unnerved me, I didn't know what to do. Would she stop on her own? Should I call for assistance? Surely not as the cameras would alert anyone of my distress.

I looked to the camera, hoping she would just stop and awkwardly, I rose up from the table.

"Uh-" I stuttered, moving towards her cautiously. She just continued to scream louder and I ended up backing away from her, covering my ears.

Why isn't anyone coming? The cameras aren't a show, I know that. They aren't a show. Why isn't anyone-

The doors suddenly burst open and two surly, burly men bound in and begin to restrain the girl. She continued to flail and kick and scream. A tug on my arm let me know that I shouldn't be standing and watching, but that I should leave the men to their job.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, bringing me down to reality again.

"Yeah," I mumbled, stepping away from him. I raked my hand through my hair and my eyebrows furrowed together. "What did I do wrong?"

Chris sighed and looked down at me. "You said that you were a doctor. It's a small note that was mentioned, but I should've told you beforehand. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I say, trying to cut him off. "I just can't believe I've messed up already."

"Don't think of it as messing up. Think of it as…" he paused for a moment, looking at the floor before looking at me, "…as… Well, you'll get another chance to show what you're made of on Thursday, with the Joker."

"You know, that _really _doesn't make me feel any better."


	4. Something To Drink Down

Well, here you go! I thought I'd try and just give this to you early because my updates suck :) Thanks super much to those of you who reviewed. My heart warmed at your comments :] I hope you like this and don't forget to review and let know what you think. Also, if you don't like the way the Joker is written, say something in that review! I'm never sure and it sure was a bitch to write!

-4-

Waking up from a good dream sucks. Waking up from bad dream isn't all that fun. Waking up from a nightmare where you're being killed by multiple, smeared faces is a relief, but if no one's there to comfort you, you're left feeling alone and vulnerable and paranoid. And not even the comfort that my room usually provides is enough to make me feel any better.

Taking deep breaths, I massage my temples, praying for something to set my mind straight. A sideway glance lets me know it's a quarter after four and that I have work at nine. And, of course, it's Thursday. Like I really need to be sleep deprived today of all days.

Giving up on the possibility of falling back to sleep moments later, I remove the thin sheets off of my dirty body and make my way to the kitchen. Barely entering the living room, I feel a draft and looking up, I see that my balcony doors are wide open and there is a figure crouched ominously on the ledge.

Being the sensible adult I am, I screamed bloody murder. It was more from shock than actual fear but right now, I don't think it really matters.

"Who are you, what the fuck are you doing in my house!" I all but screeched at the unknown character, clutching the fabric of my nightgown closer to me and trying to calm my bouncing heart.

"I heard you screaming," a deep raspy voice answered. The figure stepped down off the ledge and came in to my apartment - _in to my apartment. _

"I wasn't screaming," I snapped before taking a fearful step backward, only to have the back of my thighs hit the arm of the couch, "and you didn't answer my question. Who are you?"

In spite of the lighting situation, I began to make out his figure. It made me feel immensely better that it was in fact a man. Well, not that I should be happy that it's a man but at least it's not something supernatural, at least it is someone who can die. Not that I'm going to kill him or anything, it's just nice to know that it's possible. And like most men I know, he's also extraordinarily tall and buff which is obvious even without the black rubber outfit. With his cape billowing and face half covered by an odd mask, I briefly wondered how the hell things like this happen to me.

He was too close for my liking and without taking my gaze off of him; I sidestepped the couch and continued to walk another step back, wary.

"You're new in town, aren't you?" he asked, voice still low and keeping me on edge. "And you were screaming."

"Even if I was screaming that doesn't give you the right to break into my apartment and check it out for yourself!" I continued to snap. Of course, it was as the sentence left my mouth that I realized who this was and why my sentence sounded so dumb. I deadpanned. "You're the Batman, aren't you?"

He didn't bother to answer, just took a step back and surveyed my apartment. Though I couldn't see his eyes because of his cowl, I somehow knew that he was judging my apartment, which, in all honesty, is actually really nice right now, very professional and clean. Unfortunately, he could probably judge me on that as well.

"Is there anything else?" I snapped, feeling awkward and losing patience.

"Are you Chase Stark?" he suddenly asked.

Yeah, as this wasn't awkward enough, now he asks what my name is. Better yet, he already knew my name!

"Yes," I answered after a moment, figuring it would be best to just give him what he wanted. "Why?"

"Dr. Chase Stark, recently employed at Arkham Asylum?"

Gritting my teeth, I say, "Yes. Would you give me a moment?"

Without waiting for an answer, I turn and head towards the kitchen. Through my frustration and anger, I accidently made a lot of clatter as I searched for the alcohol, in particular, the scotch. I really shouldn't drink, especially with work tomorrow, but why the hell not; I'm having nightmares, I can't go back to sleep, and a vigilante is stalking me. I think I deserve some peace and if alcohol is the way, then I'll walk the path.

After a good few moments of searching, I found the clear bottle and grabbed a glass. I quickly poured some into the thick, block-like glass and took a hearty swig. The liquid burned my throat as it went down but I quickly poured another before stowing the bottle away. Immediately, I felt the alcohol begin its course. I felt so much more relaxed and uninhibited.

Returning to the living, I see that the Batman is watching me curiously, if only a little exasperated. Somehow, this doesn't bother me as much as it did earlier.

"Did you need me for something?" I ask, not in the least bit curious. "Because it is a bit odd that you know my name and you're still standing in my apartment."

"Commissioner Gordon informed me about you is all." I rolled my eyes at this, more miffed than him.

"Well if that is all, then maybe you should get going. Aren't there other damsels in distress that you can rescue?" I took a careful swig and kept my eyes on him, which strained my neck a considerable amount.

He continued to look at me, his jaw set and no doubt even more annoyed with me. It was almost enough to make me squirm and rather it's because of the alcohol or my paranoia, I found myself feeling guilty. I probably shouldn't have snapped at him, he was only trying to help, but this whole thing just doesn't suddenly fit into my day. It really doesn't. My life is for the most part normal, to the point of being kind of boring. That's just how it is.

Without another word, he began to walk back to the ledge. Feeling that guilt, the kind I don't think I should be feeling, I try to think of something, _**of anything**_, to put myself in a better light.

"You could use the front door."

Of course, what I could come up with would be completely stupid.

He paused to look at me and then said, "Good luck at work."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone and confused and with only a bit of liquor.

"Damn."

Entering the small room, I thought that I would have a second to take in his full aura. The first "meeting" wasn't much and although I didn't exactly know it was him, I was really hoping that this first evaluation would work just fine. Like, I wouldn't be affected in some way besides from the pressure.

Unfortunately, it didn't go that way. I had just opened the door and he was staring my way. Just flat out staring with this demented, lopsided grin on his face. I stood stiffly for a moment; face deadpanned, unsure of what to do. I stared back for a moment before stepping into the room and carefully shutting the door behind me.

Before sitting, I looked into the camera that was set up in the corner. The red light was on and though that didn't provide much comfort, it let me know that some standard was set for safety – which really doesn't seem to be much.

"Hello," I greeted, voice sounding a lot more stoic than usual. It's the alcohol.

"Go**od** morn_in-g_," he responded, watching me with those dark eyes as I sat down across from him. I tried not to notice the intensity behind the gaze and tried to focus on my objective, which unfortunately is so vague, I doubt anyone will ever accomplish it.

He sounded exactly the same as he did the last time we talked. Just as insincere and odd. I made a quick note of it and rubbed the back of my neck to calm my nerves.

"_Rough night_?" he breathed out, causing a shiver to run up my spine. Looking up from my notepad, I realize the close proximity and set my jaw subconsciously in annoyance.

Sighing more to myself than at the comment, I sit up and catch his gaze and smile lightly. "Now, now, I should be the one asking questions."

"Why, of cou**rse**. You _are_ the doc-_tor_." He giggled at his own comment, and again, I made note of it.

"I guess my first question should be how you're being treated here at Arkham."

"That _was__**-n't**_ a question."

I made note of his avoidance of answering while rephrasing my question in question form.

"It's _fine_, though the, uh, fo-**od** could be better." He smacked his lips and I watched briefly as he began to trace the inside of his mouth, along his scars. "Also, these _straitjacket__**s**_ could be a bit loos-s**er**."

"They're administered that way for a reason, Mr. Joker."

"Just Joker, puh-_lease_, I really do **ha**_**te**_ formali**ties**." I made another note and when I looked up, his beady eyes were searching my uniform. "Ch_ase_, is it?"

"I'd rather go by Dr. Stark," I say, allowing my professional exterior to become more prominent.

"That is a **love**-_ly_ fleur-de-lis you – uh, have there, _doctor_," he suddenly said, motioning with his head towards the chain around my neck. Following his gaze, I see the charm and try to keep my face impassive as I look up to meet his gaze.

"Thank you. It was a gift."

"Husband?" I quirked an eyebrow at the question and he mimics my reaction. "Boy_friend_ the**n**?"

"Friend," I corrected.

"A _**good**_ friend?"

"Very." My annoyance was a bit more evident in this small adjective.

I made note of his observation and ability to avoid the subject of titles.

"Tell me, Joker, why did you pinpoint my necklace?"

"Be**cause**, it's 'round your ne-_ck_."

"And what makes my neck so fascinating?"

"It's just _so-ooo_, long and pale. The skin looks so _smooth_ and _clean_. You must moist-_u-rize_ it daily, I can, uh, _**tell**_." At this, he let out a deep sigh and lifted his gaze from the chain to my face. "But the _best_ pa**rt**, is that I can **just** imagine my hands _wrap-ping_ around it, and _squee__**zing**_ until you're no longer breathing. _Ah_, I just hear your gas**p-**s now."

As he talked, his voice became more gruff and eager; almost like he was becoming sexually aroused by the thought of strangling. Possibly sadomasochistic?

My pen scribbled almost recklessly across the page as I noted everything about the conversation that I could put into words. My lack of reaction must not have pleased him because when I finally looked back up, he was glaring. And he continued to glare. In response, all I could do was look back.

"Is something wrong?" I asked after a moment, doing my best to keep calm, more or less to just completely annoy him.

His head dropped lower, reminding me of a dog about to strike, and after a moment, he grinned at me with his yellow tinged teeth. It would normally be very unsettling and it kind of was, but it didn't affect me in the fashion that he wished because then he was pouting at me.

"You really _are_ no fun."

"I'm not here to have fun; I'm here to do my job."

Later than I had anticipated, I returned to my office and took to lounging at my desk. An odd tension was in my stomach and it took me a moment to realize that I was hungry. Looking at my clock, I understood why. It was 4:30 and I had skipped lunch.

Gosh, had I really been in there for three hours? Three hours of nothing but me and Joker time? So very odd.

There was a knock at my door before it opened to reveal Chris. He was wearing a huge grin and he seemed more than enthused about something.

"That was amazing!" he finally exclaimed, stepping closer to my desk. "No one's lasted that long and you did so well!"

"Thank you, thank you," I mocked playfully in a deep voice. But then I felt myself fall back into my reserve, as did Chris' face when he noticed.

"Are you all right, Chase?" he asked after a moment, placing his hands in his pockets and lips dropping to a frown.

"Yeah, just…" I fought for the right words that wouldn't reveal too much, "I had a rough night."

"Care to explain?"

"Not really." He quirked a dark eyebrow and took a seat in one of the available, mandatory chairs. I smiled at him fondly before I took to rubbing the back of my neck.

"I received a strange visitor late last night." He continued to stare, expectantly. "It was the Batman."

"Well, you sure know who to pick 'em." I glared as he began to laugh. "I'm only joking!"

"It's not funny! It's scared the crap out of me, and then he wouldn't even leave!" My annoyance just made him laugh harder and I took to glaring.

"Oh, Chase, don't be like that. You have nothing to worry about." His attempt to sooth me didn't help and I continued to glare.

"What's worse was that he knew it was me! He knew who I was."

"You really don't have to be so nervous about him," he cut in, his laughter finally leaving him. "He visited me too when I first started working here."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. He just showed up one day at my house in the middle of the night and took to talking to me, sorting me out. Lucky for me, my wife was still sleeping. She probably would have started screaming and brandishing the bat." This made me laugh and I took a moment to relish in the fact that I wasn't the only one.

"That's better. Now do you have any plans for the weekend? I recommend plenty of R&R."

Rolling my eyes, I say, "Yeah, my friend Maegen is coming back into town and we'll end up shopping and catching up. Other than that, I'll probably organize and do nothing."

"Sounds about right," he stood up from my chair and stretched briefly before continuing. "Well, I'll see you Monday. Be safe, you don't need another visit from that bat."

"Yeah, yeah." As soon as his back was turned, I dropped my smile and drooped further into my leather chair. I didn't expect for him to look back.

"Are you sure you're all right?" I snapped up in my seat at the sudden question and tried to calm down enough to give a sensible answer.

"Well," I leaned forward to place my chin in my palm while trying to think of the appropriate words, "Let's just say," I catch his gaze out of habit, "It's a good thing I'm drunk."


	5. Maegen

Hey, guys. First and foremost, I'm sorry that there isn't much action in this chapter. It provides more a background and sets things up for the next few chapters. I'm working on a lot of scenes and I'm really stressed. College is stressful and I don't give a damn what anyone else says. I don't know when I'll update next but I'll try and put it out soon. Also, if anyone likes **Supernatural** and wants to read a short story of humor, check out my friends story: Exodus on Campus by Yukimura Hina. She worked really hard on it and she would love feedback! It's already finished and everything! Give it a try, please. Oh! And I don't know how to do line breaks. Forgive me!

-5-

The sudden knock from my front door snapped me out of ice cream induced stupor. More dumbfounded than anticipated, I awkwardly put down the small pint of chocolate and rise from my couch. All this tension was no doubt coming from the fact that since I'm still new to Gotham and therefore don't know anyone well enough to invite them over. Or even let them know of my address.

"Open the door, bitch!" In the second it took me to recognize the voice, I had raced to the door and nearly ripped it off its hinges. I enveloped my visitor in a tight hug and held back a squeal of enthusiasm.

"It's nice to see you too," Maegen said as I pulled away from her, grinning like a fool and body bubbling with inexplicable joy.

"Come in, come in!" I chanted, stepping back to allow her room.

She came in, lugging behind her a large black suitcase and took to surveying my apartment that she helped finance. Her eyes bounded from corner to corner and her eyes rested dead ahead for a moment before finding my gaze.

"It's not even ten o'clock on a Thursday night and you're sitting on your couch in old pajamas eating ice cream; that's pathetic."

"Bite me," was my immediate response before shutting the door behind her. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you weren't going to be in town til next week."

"Chase, I own the plane. Remember?" I rolled my eyes playfully with slightly pursued lips.

"I'll take your bags to the room and you can get comfy."

"Can't I get comfy in your room?" Maegen whispered seductively into my ear. Unable to help myself, I immediately began laughing and she joined me. It was just like old times, just like how it had always been and I laughed freely.

"It's nice to know you haven't changed," I say, dragging her suitcase down the steps and into my room. "Eat what you want!"

I dumped her bag onto my bed and quickly returned to the living room, eager to catch up with my best friend. It had only been a few weeks since our last encounter but it was long enough that I had some stories to tell and subjects to rant about.

Reentering the living room, I spot Maegen in the kitchen, digging unceremoniously through my recently stocked fridge. Her black coat had been removed, as well as her colorful scarf and boots. She looked as comfortable as ever and I grinned as I approached her, resting my upper body on the island.

"Liquor's in the cabinet."

"You know I like my vodka chilled!"

"Well it's not like I knew you were coming!"

She merely pouted exaggeratedly in my direction and began to dig through the cabinets, much like I had done last night. Lucky for her, she's taller and has greater arms length. She quickly found the bottle desired and placed it neatly into the ice bucket it in the freezer.

"Now," she spun on her to look at me, "what are you doing here, and alone of all things?"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, which was evident in my voice as I asked, "What do you mean?"

"Chase," she sighed, "you are young and hot and you don't have work tomorrow. Why are you home?"

"I've had a long day at work and…" I straightened and tried to think of a sensible reason, "and I don't want to go out."

"Is it because you have nothing to wear? Because it that's the issue, I'm fixing that tomorrow." She smirked, knowing that if she was wrong she was at least getting her way in some way.

I glared and said, "It's not about clothes. I've just been lazy and I've only been here for a couple of weeks. Maybe I just haven't had the time."

"You had time when you went to college and when you were interning."

"Well, maybe I've given up for now."

Maegen sighed yet again, looking away from for a moment before saying, "So long as this doesn't last forever. You better be back in the game by New Years."

I followed Maegen to the living room and we took to lounging about and talking and laughing. We didn't talk of anything in particular for fifteen minutes, when she remembered the drink and returned to the coffee table with that and two shot glasses.

"I refuse to get drunk," I state as she begins to pour.

"Gurl, what chu talkin' 'bout? These are fo meh."

We shopped for hours, Maegen buying a multitude of accessories and shoes with the occasional top or pair of jeans. I refused to buy anything too ostentatious but Maegen forced me to try on as many outfits as she did. Some were actually really nice, until I look at the price tag.

With arms full of bags and boxes, we entered a gown store. It was beautiful and clean and Maegen was more even more enthusiastic than the last two dress shops we visited. She took to examining a rack of dresses, grinning like a madwoman.

I stumbled as my breath caught in my throat.

"Are you okay?" Maegen asked, suddenly appearing at my side. With the smile replaced by a look of worry, I felt myself relax and gave a small nod and smiled. "Good! Now go try this on!"

My gaze moved to the sleek dress she held in her hand and I quirked an eyebrow, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Ah, no."

"Why not? It's sexy."

"Because I'm not going to buy it. And I've taken my clothes off enough for you today, thank you very much." I resituated the bags in my arms and when I looked up, she was pouting. "I don't wanna try it on!"

"Please," she begged, gripping at the end of my sleeve with puppy dog eyes.

"Mae_gen_…" I whined.

"Cha-_ase_…" she wined back.

"Fine!" With flared nostrils, I quickly put her bags on the floor and take the dress from her, ignoring the obnoxious grin on her face. "Bitch."

"You need a dress anyway," Maegen said, talking to me as I removed my clothes.

"And why's that?" I asked, voice laced with confusion as I attempted to find the opening. I soon found that it was a simple pull over. Quirking an eyebrow, I pulled it on.

"For my party."

I paused, arms and head halfway through. I tugged it down before saying, "What party?"

She was silent for a moment and as I waited for her answer, I pulled the loop of cloth that was connected to a center broach over my head to have it settle comfortably around my neck. It forced me stand a bit straighter.

"The one tonight."

"WHAT!"

Not caring in the least about any possible indecency, I yanked the dividing curtain open and glared angrily at my friend – who was determined to look anywhere but at me.

"What, party?" I enunciated, seething.

"It's not really _my_ party," Maegen replied after a moment, examining her nails and squirming in the leather chair she sat on. She at least had the sense to look ashamed. "It's Lucas'. It's a celebration party for a new deal with Wayne Enterprises. It's probably going to be boring and you _always_ come along."

"And you couldn't tell me before now, why?" The anger in my voice was mostly gone and taking her chance, Maegen looked up at me. Her blue eyes widened slightly at my form but she quickly began talking.

"Last night you mentioned the whole giving up thing and I didn't want you to feel pressured."

"And you don't think I feel pressured now?"

"You look really nice in that dress."

"Don't try and weasel your way out of this conversation with compliments!"

"But you do!"

"Maegen!" I stomped my shoeless foot.

"Look!"

She quickly raced to my side and grabbed me by my exposed shoulders, leading me to a raised platform surrounded my perfectly angled mirrors. She thrust me up the stairs and I turned to glare, but then I caught sight of my reflection and took to staring at that instead.

Unlike the past outfits I was subjected to wear, this one was just better. It wasn't too tight; it didn't cling too much or exaggerate my curves or make it impossible to breathe. It wasn't too gaudy or extravagant and it just looked good. The black material was soft and cupped my top while it hung loosely at the bottom, which ended about two to three inches above my knee, and it didn't have the maternity clothes effect. The loop around my neck gave it a sophisticated V neck look without being as prudish as similar dresses. It was appropriate and modest, and despite my earlier oath, I wanted it.

"That looks positively lovely on you!" a male voice said, with the slightest of a high pitched twinge. Looking past my reflection, I see a middle aged man with a slightly receding hairline who was beaming a brilliant smile. "Should I ring it up for you?"

"Yes, you should!" Maegen yelled before I could even open my mouth.

Catching her gaze in the mirror, I glare and she grins like a Cheshire cat.

"Oh, bite me."

Less than an hour later, I was back at my apartment without a Maegen. She had to return to her wonderful penthouse apartment to get ready and to greet her hubby. Which is code for they're going to have great sex and be sickeningly happy together – yay, them.

I showered first, remembering to shave at the last minute and then dealt with my hair. As I never do anything with my hair, it was rather uncooperative. I thought maybe a braid or some up do and then I gave up and decided to just let it flow. Make-up was delicate, mainly just a focus on my eyes. And then the dress and the decisions of the accessories.

As the dress was black I decided to go with simple gold bracelets, two on each hand. The shoes I decided on were black flats that I wear when I have to. Purses and handbags have never really been my thing but I decided to go with a small, black handbag, something just big enough to hold my wallet, phone, and keys.

It was nearing seven o'clock when there was a knock on my door. I raced to the door, eager to see my friend again, though wondering why she didn't just call me down. She has a driver. Yeah, a driver.

Opening the door wide, I see my friend looking as gorgeous as ever. She stood even taller in three inch red hot heels, nearly six feet tall. Her slim form was adorned by an electric blue dress that was cut off at different angles, the left side ending thirty degrees lower than on the right side. It showed the full extension of her legs, which are flawless. It was a halter top and held perfectly to her body, revealing the clean tan of her arms and shoulders. Her pale blonde hair was twisted into a neat bun and her makeup was clean and neat, it was the critical gaze on her face that made me wary and uncomfortable.

"Chase," she moaned softly, almost as though she were disappointed by something. "Honey…"

"What?" I asked, stepping back so that she could come into my house. By her tone, she was going to come in anyways.

"You look great—" She didn't sound like I looked great, "—but this is a no-go."

My jaw dropped. "And why not?" I didn't sound very angry but that's only because I'm not very angry. This usually happens. I get ready and she comes back and primps me up to her liking. I just thought this one time I would be able to get dressed and it would be fine. She _did_ pick out the dress!

"You just – you look so heavy." At my jaw dropping down further and my glare intensifying, she began to cover her tracks. "Not like that! We just need to—" she gestured with her hands, "fix this."

At my lack of motion, she walked into the apartment and began circling me, surveying me. This part usually happens to.

"Your makeup is excellent. The dress is, of course, fabulous. The shoes are hideous and we have to do something about your hair."

"Is my jewelry acceptable?" I mocked, though in only half seriousness.

She made a face, eyebrows scrunching together. "No."

I pouted at the remark, though she turned away too soon to see. She marched in long strides to my room and no doubt straight to my closet. Shutting my door, I wondered what she would pick. Of course, the idea makes me uncomfortable and I shut the door and opt for sitting on the couch, patient as ever.

To save us some time, I began to remove my jewelry and shoes. As for my hair – well, I have no idea what she has in mind. Maegen can work miracles.

She returned a few minutes later, holding a box, a smaller box and a brush. I quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as she sat down near me and thrust the shoe box into my hands. I frowned as I recognized the label and lifted the lid.

The shoes were black and strappy with a two and a quarter inch heel. Maegen bought them for me months ago and I've only worn them twice since. They're wonderful shoes but heels have never really been my thing, for fear of injury.

"They'll make your legs look longer," Maegen assured me before I took the initiative and removed them from the box. "Let me see your wrist." I extended my left arm and watched as she wrapped a golden watch around my slender wrist. It took me a moment to recognize it as I never wear.

"D&G, seriously?" I question with a smirk tugging at my lips. "Is it that big of a party? I'm already wearing Chanel."

"It works! No worries. You need a watch anyways."

"And why's that?"

"So you won't be checking your phone every five minutes." She smiled at me before rising and walking to stand behind me. I sat up so that she would have more access to my locks and then the tugging began.

In my childhood, my mother used to love to doll me and my siblings up. She did just about every day of my life until I reached third grade and my dad got sent to prison. Life was a bit rougher after that but the tugging stopped and I just did what I could.

Maegen was gentle as she pulled my hair into a high ponytail. It made my neck arch uncomfortable from the odd placement of weight and I tried to relax. A knot was already forming in my stomach from the prospect of another party.

"You're going to look so pretty!" She squealed happily, her heels clicking against the floor as she bounced with glee. I smiled to myself, happy for some confirmation when I suddenly felt Maegen lean down to place her mouth close to my ear and she whispered, "We have to show off this long neck of yours, don't we?"

She was so close, I could feel her smile, but I mainly focused on the feeling that exploded in my chest and the image that went to the forefront of mind. I don't know how to explain it, not really. But it was like I was back at work and he was there, smiling in his own ecstasy and laughing that laugh. This was days ago, why am I thinking about this now of all times? Yes, the neck statement was the trigger but this is Maegen! She's my best friend! Yet, this feeling is real. This _fear_ is real.

"Hmmm…" she hummed. Snapping my head up, I suddenly noticed she was in front of me and I gave a shaky smile, not wanting to upset her or let her suspect. She leaned forward, obviously not noticing my emotion turmoil, and began to fix my bangs. I covered my flinch with backing away from her manicured nails. She straightened again and I noticed she was chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Earrings, you need earrings. I'll be right back!"

She grabbed the bracelets from the table, along with the box from the heels and my flats and quickly sped back into my room.

I took the moments she was gone to release the breath I had been holding and push back the unreasonable tears that threaten to spill.

"Come on!" I whispered frantically to myself, waving my hands to dry my eyes. "My makeup is the only thing she complimented!"

"I thought loops would look hooker-ish—" I drop my hands and tack on a smile, turning to face her best way I could, "—but studs wouldn't be very flattering, so I got you these dangly ones!" She lifted up a pair of golden earrings that I received years ago from my mother with a huge grin on her face. She was just so freaking enthusiastic about tonight.

Taking them from her with a smile, I proceeded to quickly put them on and rise from my place on the couch. It took a few steps until I was a bit more comfortable in the new height and then I turn to her.

"Do I look suitable now?" My tone was only slightly mocking but it was all in good fun. Gosh, I'm going to need that tonight.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully before proudly proclaiming, "Yes." I roll my eyes and we quickly leave my apartment. I made sure to lock the door, feeling incredibly uneasy.


	6. Some Party

Hey, everyone! Thank you all SO much for reading this and reviewing and just everything! I'm sorry that this took awhile to get out but I'm trying really hard to make things make sense. I'm working really hard with the next chapter and working the details for future chapters. Tell me what you think of this though because it was a little awkward for me to write and I wanna know if it's realistic enough!

-6-

The parties that Maegen and her husband, Lucas Fields, throw aren't like "_normal_" parties. They're not exactly extravagant but they're not exactly quiet and subdued. In all truth, they're pretty cool. You know, if it weren't for the guests. As Lucas is a business man, it certainly says something about his company. Nice, but kind of boring and with a greedy need.

Entering the large penthouse that they had rented out for the party, I realized that they really hadn't changed. The decorations and color scheme were elegant, as always, and the guests were just as expected. Business suits everywhere and ladies dressed and adorned with their best matching outfits. Not a single one looked our way.

"Come one," Maegen whispered excitably, grabbing me by my wrist and tugging me behind her. She was lucky I caught my balance on these heels or else we both would have crashed onto the floor.

"Lucas!" Maegen cried out when she was close enough to her husband. He turned and smiled. "Guess who I dragged here!" She pushed me forward and Lucas said my name before giving me a large hug, one I happily accepted.

"It's so good to see you!" He spoke as he pulled away, his British accent more prominent to my ears. "How have you been? Maegen told me you got the job at Arkham."

"I'll be back!" Maegen suddenly said before rushing off into the sea of suits.

Smiling, I turned back to Lucas and answered his question. "I've been good."

"Is the flat working out?"

"Of course," I said with a slightly eye roll. "How have you been?"

"As well as always." He suddenly grinned. "Did Maegen tell you yet?"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion but still smiling, I quickly said, "Tell me what?"

His grin didn't falter as he said, "She's pregnant."

Something cold and hard hit my stomach as the statement registered in my mind.

Pregnant, as in going to have a baby? I know the inevitable next step in marriage would be creating a family and I knew Maegen wanted to have kids, but why couldn't she tell me? We had spent a whole day together, laughing and catching up on each other's lives. She could have told me at any time. There wasn't a real moment of animosity, not that I can think of.

"Can you believe it?" Lucas continued to rant, oblivious to my shock. "Me and Maegen, having a baby! We've been trying for almost a year now and we just couldn't believe it when it happened. She's only six weeks along but…" He chuckled softly, his blue eyes alight with a flare of happiness. "I just can't begin to explain my happiness."

Forcing a smile onto my face, I calmly say, "That's great! Maegen told me that she had wanted to tell me something but I had no idea! I'm so happy for you."

We shared a quick hug and after our immediate release, a waiter is standing beside us and offers us some champagne. I quickly take one and gulp down about half while Lucas whispers that he has to find someone and goes off into the crowd. I drink the rest of the glass almost too hastily and stop the boy before he could walk away and grab another.

A headache begins to form at the rush of the alcohol and I take in a deep shuttering breath and count to twenty.

How could she not tell me? She didn't even mention it. Not even the trying bit. Was it supposed to be a surprise because I sure as hell am!

And then I remember her drinking at my house and I feel disgusted with myself.

Did I help her harm their baby? It's not really my fault but I didn't stop her. But I didn't know.

"That _bitch_," I spit venomously to myself, feeling an overwhelming anger in my bones.

The pit of my stomach continues to churn and I finish two more glasses of champagne before I'm approached by Maegen and a tall figure trailing behind her. I won't deny it – I was seething.

"Chase!" she exclaimed, despite the fact that I was standing right beside her. She seemed completely oblivious to my new nature. "I want to introduce Lucas' new business partner to you – Bruce Wayne."

I look away from her and turn my gaze to the man beside her. He was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and strikingly familiar – not to mention gorgeous. My anger subsided enough for my curiosity of the man to show through the action of cocking my head to the side, very much like a bird.

"Don't I know you?" I asked, capturing his eyes.

A small smirk came across his face and he too cocked his head a bit to the side.

"Everyone knows Bruce Wayne," Maegen said in his place, touching my arm. I didn't stop myself from glaring at her but she really didn't seem to notice. I calmed myself by looking back at Bruce, intent on figuring out why he looked so familiar.

"We've met," he said, stepping forward. "I think is the second time I've seen you drinking."

Unfortunately, he said at the same time as a burst of laughter from the small party next to us smothered his words and I said, "I'm sorry I didn't hear you."

"We met outside of Starbucks a few weeks ago I think."

His mouth hadn't formed the same words but I felt my jaw drop a bit as I grinned and said, "That's right! I nearly tripped into you." He smiled, as though to reassure me.

"Well that's great!" Maegen cheered, grinning broadly at me. "Well I'll leave you two alone. I'll find you later, okay?" She didn't even wait for me to answer and she very pointedly ignored my scowl.

Turning back to Bruce, I raised an eyebrow and said, "Well I don't know about you, but I'm going to skip out before I'm forced to stay any longer."

"And why would you want to skip out on a party like this?" He mocked playfully.

"I've got things to do for work," I half-lie smoothly. "And I lost all feeling in my feet about three minutes ago."

"Work?" He turned to face me more and I mimicked his moment. "Where do you work at that could be more exciting than this?" He brandished his muscular arm around us with a small, sarcastic smirk.

"I'm a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane," I supply simply, smiling at his nature.

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Well that was unexpected."

"The fact that I'm a psychiatrist or that I work at Arkham?"

He chuckled before saying, "The Arkham bit. A woman such as yourself is sure to be accomplished and it would be rude for me to think anything less."

"A woman such as myself?" I questioned, quirking my eyebrow for emphasis. Yes, I was attempting to flirt but for some reason, I just find it really appropriate. I think it's the alcohol.

"Yes," he said simply, his voice dropping and then his gaze locked with my mine.

For a moment, I took in the full effect of his dark orbs and relished in thoughts and possibilities of this man. Besides him reaching every physical requirement, he was funny and nice, definitely easy to talk to. He was stable with his work and his name held prestige, though those last bits weren't as necessary.

But then there are those questions that can't be answered so suddenly: like what kind of lover he would be, if he wanted to marry one day or if having kids was what he wanted, if he would make a good father. If patience and faithfulness were strong virtues, or if he simply wasn't ready.

I looked away, chuckling to myself while subconsciously biting the corner of my lip.

"Well, Mr. Wayne," I say, turning back to him, feeling only a bit lightheaded, "even though it was a pleasure meeting you, I've really got to get going."

He pouted at me before smiling and saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you as well."

His right hand went up and he smiled down at me, encouraging me to grasp his hand. Looking at the hand for less than a moment, I switched my glass to my left and stepped forward to slide my hand into his. It was very warm and only slightly rough (but from what, I have no idea) and I blame the alcohol for my lax grip. And it was because of my lax grip and alcoholic state that he startled me when he raised my hand to his mouth, where he placed a soft, chaste kiss along the ridge of my knuckles.

For a moment, I stared at him with my mouth just a bit agape. His lips, like his hands, were warm but much softer. His breathe made a chill run up my right leg and he smirked as he straightened, lowering my arm down but not releasing my hand, which was still much too lax. I forced myself to blink and look away, but then I felt the blush creeping up my neck and began to feel ashamed of myself. I shouldn't have gotten carried away. His deep voice brought me back to reality.

"What do you think about talking more?" At this, I laughed loudly and felt light and airy. Whether it was the statement or the ideas that ran through my head at the word 'talk', I decided it really would be best to make my exit.

"I don't know, Mr. Wayne—"

"Bruce," he cut in politely, smiling at me. "Call me Bruce."

I almost laughed again but contained it with my smile. "Of course. Well, Bruce," his name tasted sweet and fresh, "I really don't know what to think about that."

I was almost reluctant to release his hand and so I just began to walk away, hoping he would get the hint to just release it and let me go. But he didn't, not right away at least. He followed me a few paces but then his grip slipped from mine and I made my way to the elevator, placing the almost empty champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

Entering the elevator on my own, I let myself lean against the smooth wood of back wall and replay the feelings that had happened between me and Bruce.

He really did seem so sweet and gentle. It was almost like he knew exactly how I wanted to be treated, and though I did love it, the lightheartedness of it all began melt off of me. And it was replaced with a sudden emptiness in the pit of my stomach. It didn't stay empty though. No, it was quickly replaced by my sorrow and anger to my friend. The tears welt up in my eyes and I was glad I was alone.

I had every right to be upset, didn't I? She's my best friend and she couldn't tell me something as intimate as her being pregnant. She told me everything about her marriage – the fights (though rare), the sex, the sweet things, the corny things. And it's not like I would be upset with her for wanting to have a family. She's always wanted two kids, though I'm no longer sure if that's true either.

Crying for a brief moment was all I needed.

When I reached the lobby of the hotel, I went straight for the door and went out into the night air. It was cooler than when I had arrived and an unpleasant chill ran down my spine. Flagging down a taxi, I wondered if I should go home. It was still rather early in the evening, only eight thirty.

Jumping into the cab, I asked the driver to take me to Arkham Asylum. He grumbled about the distance but I ignored him and instead focused on breathing deeply, and not crying.


	7. The After Party

**Hey, guys! First, I apologize for the late update and thank you so much for sticking with me and being patient. My mind has just been everywhere, I had writer's block, I didn't want this chapter to be too long - and I'm just so sorry. Try and enjoy this and I'm just so sorry and excuse any mistakes and feel free to tell me in a review how awful I am. **

-7-

Upon arriving at Arkham, I realized that I didn't have my ID badge. Luckily, the night time security guards recognized me and let me. I made it all the way up to my office, almost breaking down again in the elevator.

I really have no idea why I even decided to go to work. There were papers that needed to be sorted but other than that there wasn't much to do. If I got bored enough, I could do an advance evaluation. It would get me ahead for Monday, but Monday's not so bad.

Well, there's that evaluation with Harvey Dent Two-Face on Tuesday. I have three other examinations on Tuesday so if I do two tonight, I would just be more open. It makes sense.

Only a few patients are actually under my care, and I've only made little progress in my findings. So I began to dig through my files and pour over my cases.

There was Lawrence Coupling, a schizophrenic who had murdered a group of school children. Filtering through the computer, I realized that he was in isolation for attacking another inmate in the rec room. But his case wasn't too outrageous, compared to the rest of Arkham.

It took more searching to realize that I had only a few of my patients were actually available. I only have ten, and two are in isolation and four were under the influence of strong, making it extremely difficult to carry a conversation. There was Megan, Caleb, Beverly (yes, that's a boy), and William, who likes to go by Hawk.

And then there was the Joker.

But I don't have to deal with him for another few weeks.

_Or whenever I want to._

There's no denying that I did feel more prestigious after my examination. Chris praised me awhile afterward and I was congratulated by several people for keeping my wits. Not to mention the fact that I was very proud of myself. It's not like I was really drunk and couldn't handle him on my own.

Quickly rescheduling Beverly's time from Tuesday to tonight, I call security to set up the room. Remembering my promise, I made sure to take along some hand sanitizer. Beverly doesn't like overexposure to germs. Drove him insane and he forced several coworkers to drink down cleaning supplies for hours under threat of being shot with a water pistol.

I smiled softly as I entered the bright white room and quickly greeted Beverly, who smiled back in greeting. Despite him being a murderer, he's actually very charismatic. Very talkative and clean and wanting to know how the pop culture world is.

"Thank you," he croons as I hand him the very small sample bottle of hand sanitizer. He immediately opens it and creates a small dollop on his hands and begins to lather it into his skin. He closes his light eyes, taking in his personal ecstasy, and I'm quick to write down his reaction. "You know, my last therapist wouldn't give me any for the longest time. He had actually gone as far as to write it off of my list of goods, "for my own good" he said." He paused to scowl, but then he smiled. "But Mom kept sending them."

"That was sweet of her," I say, leaning back in my chair. "Who was your last therapist?"

"Darren Tiddle," he says, pronouncing the name carefully and I take note.

-"I'm sure that he was just trying to regulate your dosage," I tried to assure, smiling softly.

"Why the sad face?" he suddenly asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I wasn't aware that I was wearing one," I say in response, slightly worried that my mask had slipped.

Beverly raised an eyebrow and gave me an all knowing look. "Honey," he began with a soft sigh, "you're all dressed up and working. Something is wrong with this picture."

Well, he was right. As I hadn't a change in clothes, I had just put my white working coat over my dress and replaced my heels for a pair of extra flats I kept under my desk. I probably should have removed some of my earrings or let my hair down to make myself appear to be more casual, but I guess I hadn't thought about it. And I am working, and something is wrong.

"Maybe."

After my interview with Beverly was over, I returned to my office and just sat there. It was like all of my energy was gone and it was replaced with apathy. I felt so strangely detached, but then I got hungry. A glance at the watch still on my wrist let me know it was ten forty. I had to encourage myself to stand and walk to the snack machines.

Ten minutes later I was back in my office with my dollar Coke and dollar and twenty-five cent bag of Doritos. Why the chips were more than a drink, I have no clue. I felt rather pathetic for a moment before opening my bag.

It was mostly air.

I just paid a dollar and twenty-five cents for air.

What kind of sick joke is this?

Grumbling to myself, I ate a chip and quickly proceed through the rest of the bag, which wasn't much. With my Coke half gone, I realized that I was still hungry and craving chocolate.

An ache started in my chest and I felt myself frown. My brow furrowed and I became aware that my shoulders were slowing coming down, giving me a hunchback form. And then I began to cry some more.

My thoughts focused on Maegen and Lucas and the future baby – and then to lies and lies and more lies. Well, they weren't really lies. That's what Maegen would say anyway. The truth just wasn't displayed and I felt horribly out of the loop, out of sync. It hurt more than I had expected.

Quickly, though, I became annoyed with myself and began to pace the length of my office. My breath began to even and my tears finally stopping falling and I decided the best thing to do was to somehow busy myself. See another patient, sort of papers, make schedules, set prescriptions. The thought of just going home was very pleasing but no doubt Maegen would attempt to swing by and try and find me after the party. If I was there and she tried to enter, I would probably let her and explode. And I don't want to see her, not yet.

Staring down at my computer screen, the name _Harvey Dent_ glared at me. It was like it was _daring_ me to drag and drop it into the new time slot. The only problem was since this is graveyard shift, the file that everyone contributes to is locked in Walc's office. If I were to have a session, I'd be going in blind – which technically isn't always a bad thing.

Never being one to back away from a blatant test of courage, I reacted by meeting the challenge. Seeing that I didn't have much time to prepare, I decided to just get down to the room and set up. Not that studying this man's information would do me much good. I mean, it's Harvey Dent – What's there to expect?

Forcing away all feelings and remembrance of my anxiety, I let my cool mask take over as I made my way to the interview room. I took my time, relaxing my shoulders and popping my knuckles.

"Calm down, calm down," I chant my mantra, taking in deep, filling breaths. Erasing all thoughts of Maegen and anything relating to Maegen, I carefully opened the door and stepped into the clean room.

I hadn't expected him to look so gruesome. Sounds naïve, I know, but seeing half of his face charred off sent a chill down my spine and it wasn't pleasant. For second, I had thought the smell of burnt flesh would hit me but when it didn't I proceed into the room and took the seat opposite of the criminal.

His intense and once kind eyes were trained on the belts that restrained his arms and I was hesitant to break his concentration. But I couldn't be a coward forever so I cleared my throat and laid my fresh notepad in front of me and uncapped my pen. Looking back up, I tensed when noticing his gaze on me.

He didn't look particularly angry; just unbelievably criticizing. He seemed to be examining me more than I to him. A bit unnerved but more so annoyed, I took to analyzing the only thing I could – his appearance.

There's no doubt that he was once handsome. The half of his unmarred face was testimony to that. His skin smooth, if only disturbingly pale, the high cheekbones, the hair. The hair on the damaged part of his head seemed to be filling in and it was framing his face in an elegant way.

"Can we begin?" he asked, bringing me back to reality. I gave a sigh and quickly wrote his name on the top of the page.

"Let's."


	8. Dreams and Dates

Wow… Y'all must've really hated that last chapter. It was kind of a dud in its own way. Well, hopefully this will make up for it and you'll do me a huge favor and **REVIEW** so I actually know what you think. I'm making some turns that everybody may not like but as this isn't written out fully (obviously), things can change with suggestions.

-8-

I could feel myself pulsating as large, warm hands cupped and gripped at tender spots along my body. My eyes were closed, my mouth was open, and he was everywhere. Pulling, begging, groaning against me – _with me_.

Suddenly, I was pushed away. Dazed, I tried to focus on who was holding me up, on who was _touching_ me.

I should have been frightened by the man with the eternal smile, but I wasn't. I didn't feel anything but heat – _his heat_ – engulfing me, coaxing me. And as he smiled and brought a shining silver blade to my face, I smiled back.

Shooting up with a gasp and a violent shiver, I realize that it was all a dream. The image of the deranged being was replaced with a comforting darkness and I was alone.

For a moment, I could comprehend nothing. My breaths were present so I was in no immediate fear of dying but my dream was reeling inside of my mind. Running forward and backwards, creating an unpleasant ache to resonate around me.

"Oh shit," I huff to myself, closing my eyes and falling back on the small couch I was stationed around. My hands shook, sweat was running down my back, there was a dull pain between my shoulder blades, but my breath was slowly starting to even.

The sudden urge to throw up hit me but a deep breath forced it back down. Another couldn't keep it at bay and I raced to the only trashcan I could remember being in the room.

Spitting a bit of bile from my dry mouth, I moved to sit away from the small bin under my work desk. Unfortunately, I ended up smacking my head against the top and my mind temporarily fogged from the impact. I must not have hit it very hard because the pain was gone after a few seconds and I carefully lifted myself from the floor and into my office chair. It was surprisingly soft and much easier to relax in.

Time passed slowly and in silence as I tried to remember what was going on and what was happening.

I vaguely remember the party that Maegen and Lucas had and I frowned as I thought of the fact that Maegen lied to me. Rationally, I know there's a reason. There's a reason for everything and Maegen wouldn't have kept this a secret unless there was a reason. There just _has_ to be a reason. But emotionally, I'm just pissed.

Bruce Wayne, I remember him. _God, he was cute._ I should have just stayed with him! He probably could've kept me preoccupied and away from thoughts of Maegen and those stupid, **stupid** dreams.

Which, by the way, what the fuck. I mean, I haven't had sex in awhile but really, The Joker? He's not really even all that attractive! Well, not really. I just don't understand why it was him. It's not he was even the last person/patient I've seen. I wouldn't be so freaked if my dream was with Harvey Dent Two-Face. He's not nearly as threatening as I thought he'd be! Just a bunch of morality talk and the luck of chance kind of guy. Hell, he could've written a book by now.

Oh, but he's technically dead.

Turning on my desk lamp, I realize how tired I am. My body feels heavy and I feel like I've got a temperature, and a glance to the watch still on my wrist lets me know that it's five in the morning.

"Awesome," I grumble to myself, resisting the urge to wipe at my eyes.

Placing my head on the desk, I began inhaling and exhaling slowly, somehow finding a way to relieve all of my tension. It works for my body but my mind keeps wanting to the most demented places and with more aggression that I intended, I scoot from desk and stand carefully.

With my new found resolve, I called a cab and began to gather my belongings. It's still my day off and no matter what anyone would think, I would still find it utterly pathetic.

Luck seemed to be on my side as I made my way through the front doors of the asylum. Most of the inmates were asleep and visiting hours weren't permitted so early on the weekends, so the madhouse was more peaceful that usual. The occasional guard turned no eye to stare at the odd employee with no like, i.e. me, and I had only waited a few minutes before the cab arrived.

I arrived home a quarter after six and quickly got into the shower. Chances of me being able to go to sleep were slim to impossible but I no longer felt the need to be productive, which in turn means that I will most likely just watch musicals and avoid any human interaction.

In the midst of blow-drying my thick locks, my phone went off. Startled, I quickly moved to grab the small electronic. It was a number I didn't recognize but nonetheless, I turned off the blow-dryer and answered my phone with a wary, but polite, "Hello?"

"Dr. Stark?" a male voice questioned. It was deep, confident, vaguely familiar.

"Yes," I replied tentatively, feeling my eyebrows scrunch together.

"This is Bruce Wayne." I could hear his smile.

My mouth froze and very briefly, there was nothing but white noise in my head. Not because of my lack of recognition in the man but rather because I had no idea why he was calling me. Or how he even got my number.

"How did you get my number?" I blurted breathlessly. He laughed and I blanched. "That's not what I meant – I mean, I do want to know, but – but—" Bruce was kind enough to cut me off.

"Your friend Maegen gave it to me."

Her mere name made me scowl and out of an odd instinct, I sighed, "That bitch." It didn't take me a moment to realize that I had said it out loud and that it could be misinterpreted. "That's not what I meant! I'm okay that you have my number, I just have issues with her right now, and that's just not what I meant and I'm sorry." I was so focused and rushed on apologizing, that I hadn't realized that he was chuckling on the other side.

"Sorry," I apologized again.

"It's all right," he assured.

"So," I began again, feeling awkward, "why _are_ you calling?"

"At the party, you said you didn't know what to think of the two of us talking more—" I felt myself begin to blush, "—but I took the incentive to give this a try. You know, to help you make up your mind."

Smiling, I say, "How very kind of you." Before I lost my nerve, I continued. "Well, what would you like to talk about?"

"_Well_, I thought we could meet up and have breakfast while we talked."

"So you thought about it?" I teased.

"How could I not?" I'm not going to lie, I grinned at his response.

"Now I can't refuse. Where do you want to eat?"

"I know a diner."

"That's informative," I remark sarcastically, still smiling. "The address would be nice."

"I would give it to you but I think it would be much more chivalrous for me to pick you."A deep sound erupted from my throat, making it known that I wasn't completely comfortable with the idea. Of course, he couldn't really tell so I was quick to explain.

"Truthfully, I'm not completely comfortable with the idea that you would know where I live so soon." Sucking my lips in, I waited anxiously for his response. But like the gentleman he was, Bruce didn't keep me waiting.

"_Truthfully_, that sounds perfectly reasonable."

We talked for a few minutes more and he gave me the street of the diner and we agreed to meet there by nine.

As I continued to dress for the day, I found myself smiling. Instead of my distaste for my friend, it was replaced by thoughts and musing of Bruce. I knew I was forming a crush on the man but really, how couldn't I? It was beautifully distracting.

Finding the diner took less time than I had expected and I settled into a comfortable booth, flipping through the menu. The diner was nice and had an old-timesy feel and it was mostly empty, besides a few men enjoying coffee at the bar. A pretty waitress approached and I ordered coffee, letting her know that I was expecting someone.

At every bell ding, my eyes would lift from my menu to the door. It was ten 'til when the bell went off again and I saw him. Maybe it was my shitty night or the ideas I played with earlier but oh my God – _could he be any more attractive?_

He was dressed in a wonderfully fitting suit, somehow more refined that last nights, and he was as poised as a professional. He eyes were steady and he smiled as he turned in my direction. I smiled back instinctively but I felt more content to stare.

His mouth opened and he spoke but I didn't register the words. I just watched as his lips and tongue worked to form words and as he took a seat opposite of me, leaning into the cushioning of the seat.

"Sorry," I immediately apologize, closing my eyes briefly and shaking thoughts from my head. "Could you say that again? I spaced."

Smiling, he said, "How's your morning been?"

Giving a noncommittal shrug, I say, "Meh. It's improved drastically in the past minute or so, but it's still far too early to have a definite answer." His smile widened, causing his eyes to crinkle just a bit but it suited him.

We talked and ate and talked. It was surprisingly peaceful and playful. We didn't try for any sort of deep conversation dealing with our past, focusing more on ideas of the present. Every so often, I would let a small story from my schooling come forward but we were both kind and smart enough not to let reminiscing take us away.

"Do you dress like that every day?" I asked, trying to bring about a new topic.

"Like what?" I raised an eyebrow in question.

His playing coy was undeniably cute but would not deter me. "In a suit and tie, all gussied up."

"As a matter of fact, I do." I chuckled under my breath. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, it's just…" I paused, thinking of the best possible wording, "Don't you ever get tired of dressing up?"

Suddenly, his face tensed and fell into a sort of mellow expression, his dark eyes becoming unfocused and yet very intent to staring at the rim of my cup. I suddenly felt bad, as though I had erected some harsh thought in his mind. Of course, I should know by now to be more cautious. Before I had a chance to dispel any harm with humor, he blinked and answered.

"Sometimes."

It was a vague enough answer that even if I hadn't already decided to change topics, I now knew better.

"What made you decide to call me?" I tried instead, purposely catching his eyes.

"I thought it was obvious." The smirk was back and the tension gone. But as it didn't answer my question, I cocked my head and waited.

We shared expectant looks before he said, "Oh, don't make me say it."

"But I don't know what _it_ is!"

"Fine," he relinquished, making me fill with an odd anticipation that I hadn't felt since college. I was almost startled when he continued to look me directly in the eye and speak. "Truthfully, I don't date, but I would like to date you."

It was as though the entire restaurant was listening and waiting for my answer and I felt myself blush. His dark eyes were still on me and I awkwardly licked my lips, pointedly avoiding his gaze, before sputtering, "Okay."

I couldn't help noticing that his eyes weren't nearly as dark as the man from my dreams.


	9. Leader

Sorry I couldn't get this to y'all sooner. This semester has been more difficult than I thought but that's just a poor excuse. Leave a review and let me know what you think please! If you don't like the direction this is heading, you should let me know! Also, I apologize if this is choppy and for grammar mistakes, for I'm sure there were plenty of them.

-9-

We set up a date for Thursday. He would pick me up from work and we would go out to eat, somewhere. Honestly, I don't even care where. I've been bubbling over with glee since we set it up. I haven't been this excited in _forever_, and I'm genuinely surprised by how much I like Bruce.

Of course, all of that had to come crashing down ten minutes after I got back to my apartment when Maegen called me. My happiness doesn't change the fact that she pissed me off and that she's pregnant. I watched the call come and go and the image of a voicemail appear in the corner. I ignored it.

To retain my happiness, I decided to work about lazily. I popped in a movie, grabbed some case files, and began to organize the contents and figure in some of my notes. It was wonderfully tedious and distracting and I ended up going to bed later than expected. I thought of Bruce as I slipped into the dark.

I made it to Arkham early the next morning, almost completely prepared for the day. I hadn't expected to find a note in my box requesting for me to see Dr. Walc. It put me on edge and I was quick to drop off my belongings and make my way to his office.

"Ah, Dr. Stark," he greeted with a smile, making me feel more at ease. I smiled back and entered as he waved me in. "It's good to see you so early; I want to get this taken care of quickly."

I nodded and took the seat across from his cluttered desk. He moved away from his cabinet filer and took his own seat, meeting my gaze with his. It seemed strange to me that he was so _calm_. Dr. Walc is usually so flustered and uncomfortable, but still rather sweet in his grandfatherly way.

"Dr. Stark," he began, causing me to square my shoulders, "I would like you to become the primary consultant for the Joker case."

**That was not what I expected. **

Clearing my throat, I found that I didn't know where to look. The carpet was green, the walls grey, the room smelled of moss, the chair was stiff, his books looked new, his eyes were blue, and I had no words.

"Sir," I tried, "I-I don't understand." That was not sufficient.

He gave me a smile that I couldn't describe. I tried again.

"I've only worked with him once."

"And you are the only one who's been able to handle him. I've had people quit so they wouldn't have to deal with him. But _you_—I watched the video and you were in complete control of the situation, _and_ you were able to write him out a bit."

"Writing him out doesn't mean that I have any sort of diagnosis for this man, if there even is one," I attempted to cut in, feeling unstable. "That session could have been a fluke and I may never be able to get anything out of him again."

"I have full faith in your capabilities; you're a natural," he bragged, eyes shining. _If only he had seen my first patient's reaction to me. _At seeing my disheartened expression, he continued. "If you're worried about compensation, don't be. I am more than willing to administer a raise."

"Money isn't the issue." I paused. It might become an issue. I can't really afford to me mad at Maegen and not be paying her back steadily. Before I had a chance to continue, Dr. Walc did.

"I know it's a lot to ask of you." There was a sympathy in both his voice and eyes. "But I do hope that you will think on it. Do know that no one will blame you or think less of you. It's a tricky business and I will respect your decision fully."

Shifting my glare to my shoe, I can't help but feel as though this is complete bullshit. Of course everyone is going to think less of me. They'll lose respect for me and think that I'm some sort of coward. I know I shouldn't let their opinions affect my decision but it does factor in. And the raise is not something to ignore either.

But it's the Joker! I can barely stomach the guy! And that dream… I know it was just a dream but I do not in any way want to become close to this guy. I don't want him to be my primary subject when I get to work and have his pictures and work and crimes stamped on all of my papers.

Then again, maybe I should. What if it wasn't a fluke, that first time? What if I was actually able to get something from him because I'm good enough? That's a strange thought, being good enough for the Joker.

Finding resolve, I look back at Dr. Walc and say, "Can I have a few days to think of it?"

"Of course," he answers with a smile.

_Old bastard_ I think viciously as I make my way out of his office, _he knows he has me._

I played hard to get for as long as I could, which only ended up being a few hours after the proposal. Before I knew it, I was outside of Dr. Walc's door and was knocking. I was let in and he was still smiling.

"Hello again," he said. I didn't reply as I took my previous seat and steeled myself.

"What would being the primary consultant mean for me?" I asked instead.

He seemed so pleased. "You would hold and be in charge of the main case file, in charge of keeping it updated and all that. If the police were to come by, it would be you that they would seek out. Your times with the Joker would be weekly instead of in rotation. You would be in charge of making sure his medication was appropriate. That's about it."

"And everyone else's involvement?"

"For the most part, it stays the same. The span between visits will grow, and no doubt people will think that they can to slack, but everyone will see him in turn. But with your focus on the Joker, your own turns with the Scarecrow and Two-Face would no longer an issue." He paused. "Unless you _want_ to continue with them."

"I wouldn't want to stress myself," I blurted, looking at the blue pen on his desk. As soon as I said it however, my eyes went back to his.

"So you accept?"

_It's not like I can deny it now._

"Yes."

Walc was happy enough with my decision, but I could tell Chris wasn't so happy for me. By the end of lunch, everyone must have known because everyone was significantly happier and Diane even promised to bring me lunch for Tuesday. It was strange and I was kind of excited. And if I am just awful and can't take it, I can just drop the file.

That is, if my pride doesn't get in the way.

Although my planned, regular meetings with the Joker would be Wednesday, this week it would be Thursday, as Carol Vlore would be taking her break the following week. Rather unfortunately, this just meant that my Thursday would be a bit stressed. And even more unfortunately, it came sooner than I would have liked.

The early week had been a blur, in spite of the progress I'd made with my other patients. My time with the Joker was scheduled to start at two, but because of a minor outbreak in the commons, it was pushed back to three. It made me feel stressed for time as I prepared my notes and calmed myself down.

On my way down, I came across Chris, who was looking for me.

"What's up?" I asked, deciding to take the stairs instead of the elevator.

"My wife would like to invite you for dinner," he said, giving me a strange smile. "I know it sounds weird but she's really excited to meet the woman who has given me relief of mind."

"What do you mean?" I asked, before adding, "And of course, I'd love to."

"The Joker used to terrorize me," he admitted, following me down. "I'd have nightmares about him and what he threatened to do. I'm not stoked that you've decided to put this on yourself and I'm not saying that I'll slack when it's my turn, but I think I speak for the whole staff when I say I'm grateful for this."

Somehow, this was not what I wanted to hear, and I didn't know what to say. So I gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded, feeling uncomfortable in his presence.

"Is Tuesday good for you?"

When I entered the room, the Joker was already present, tightly chained and secure to his chair. I eyed the security camera in the corner of the room before shutting the door and moving to sit in front of the man. He hadn't looked up since I had entered, it made my nerves fray.

Taking my seat, I began with a basic pleasantry. "How are you doing today?"

"Fi_n_e," he grumbled grudgingly.

"That's good," I replied, moving some files around. "So, I thought we'd start today with—"

"Are you my _new_ regul**ar**?" he interrupted smoothly, making me blink from the interruption. After the question processed, I nodded truthfully. "This will be _f_un then."

"How so?" My head cocked a bit to the left and I wished it hadn't. I didn't want him to know that I was curious, beyond the common doctor-patient standards.

"Wel-**l**," he drawled slowly, "how could i**t** _not_ be, with **me** and **you**? We're a _go-od_ couple."

At the word couple, I wanted to cringe. Instead, I smiled.

"Yeah, I think we are too. A little rough around the edges…"

"That's the spirit," he complimented, raising his chin at me and giving a snarl of a smile, his scars twitching. "My last regular _never_ pl**ayed **with **me**."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Dull," I remarked, giving him a sharp, playful look with my eyes.

"_Very_."

"We'll be the best of friends before long, I'm sure."

"Oh ye-**s**. We'll even have, _uh_, nicknames for each other—In which case, you can call Mis_ter_ Jay."

"Mister Jay?" I questioned quirking an eyebrow and trying not to smile at the semi-adorable nickname.

"Yes. You're welcome to add a b**it** more of that _ac-_cent of yours if you'd li**k**e." He tongue flicked out to the taste the right corner of his lips.

Having my slight southern accent brought out made me a bit uncomfortable but I tried not to let that show too much. As my accent was present, I couldn't deny and ignore it either.

"What about my accent?" I asked, leaning forward a hair, attempting to see aloof and interested at once.

"It's souther**n**, but _how_ souther**n**?"

"I'll tell you if you'll tell me about your own."

"_Tit-for-tat_. I like that."

But then he didn't say anything else. He leaned back in his seat and began to stretch his neck, which was no doubt a bit difficult in the straitjacket. His dark eyes were full of mirth as he turned to look back at me, and I realized that he wasn't going to answer my question.

It was going to be a long session.

**Don't forget to review!**


	10. More

So, I'd really appreciate it if you'd give me your opinion of this chapter. In spite of what people may think, I _actually_ want to know what you think. Please tell me if you think it's still in-character and if you like the direction it's heading. Also, BIG thanks to everyone who has reviewed. To,** X1Sweetie1X-** thank you for telling me what you wanted to read. **OhhTaylorJade**, your review literally made me what to squeal. But thank you to everyone and try to enjoy this chapter!

-10-

_Jerk_,_ jerk, jerk_ I thought violently, gritting my teeth. I was running behind. I hadn't meant to stay in that damned interview room for too long but—

"Ah!" I grunted out in frustration as I raced up the stairs to my office. After locking the door, I immediately began to strip. Of course, I was still moving and ended up tripping over a chair leg.

Ignoring the pain, I rose and moved to the standing lamp in the corner of the room that acted as my coat rack. The dress I had chosen for the occasion was burgundy, with a halter top and the skirt ending just above my knees. It was easy enough to slip into but I struggled to put my shoes on in a hurry. I was midway through the act when my phone went off. Without looking, I hit the answer and brought the receiver to my ear.

"I'm sorry I'm running behind," I immediately began to explain, struggling with the strap. "I got stuck in an interview and—"

"Chase?"

With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I froze. For on the phone wasn't the man I was glad to be escaping with, but the woman who made me want to escape—Maegen.

I snapped into a straight standing position, the blood rushing to my head. "Maegen."

"Hey," she said, sounding somber, "how have you been? I haven't heard from you in awhile."

"Um…" I couldn't think of anything to say. No, that's a lie. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. But since she was actually listening, I found myself unable to say it. I couldn't say how bothered and hurt I was, especially with Bruce coming and with all of my other business.

"I'm fine," I finally choked out, my throat tight at the lie. "How-How are you?"

"Good, good." She didn't sound good. She probably already knows that I know. In spite of our current situation, I still know how in-sync the two of us are. We've known each other since we were twelve (_oh, God, it's been __**that**__ long_) and best friends for almost as long.

Unable to think of anything else to say, I didn't say anything. A long minute passed when my phone let out a rather annoying buzz and I pulled it away to see the screen.

Bruce was calling.

Shit. I have a date.

"I've got to go," I spewed into the receiver, bending back over to continue my shoe fiddling.

"Chase—"

"I've got to go," I say again. I switched the lines and forced a smile onto my face as I said, "Bruce?"

"It's me," he confirmed, voice calm and cool. "We're crossing the bridge now. Are you ready to go?"

I grunt as I finally forced the buckle into place. "Yes."

There was a chuckle. "We'll take our time."

Somehow, the smile became real and I said a small, "Thank you."

Nearly two hours later, we were still on our date. Bruce had been as courteous as ever when he rescued me, complimenting me on my outfit and creating a comfortable atmosphere. The restaurant he had picked out was ridiculously fancy but Bruce kept it casual. He even did me the favor of suggesting something from the extensive menu instead of making me suffer through the entire thing.

Our conversation had been light with lots of laughter and jokes. It was as pleasant as I was hoping, but before we started to become reminiscent, Bruce suggested that we change venue.

"Would you like to go back to my condo?"

"Yes."

Luckily, Bruce was busying flagging down a waiter as I blushed. It's not like I expect anything to happen (it's only the first official date, for Christ's sake) but my lack of pausing to process the question was unsettling.

His condo was near the exact center of Gotham, and miles away from my apartment. I attempted to memorize the route, in case of some sort of incident, but I continually grew distracted by the lights. Having lived in Gotham for less than three months, it seemed so new and bright. There was danger everywhere but it was still so alluring.

Bruce's condo had the best view I had ever seen. As it was on the top floor and the building was incredibly tall, it just _looked_ like everything was laid out in front of us. The darkness encompassed every sparkling light in the city and it vaguely reminded me of Christmas.

"Here you go." Bruce's voice broke through my revere and I smiled and accepted the wine glass he held out for me.

"Thank you," I replied. Taking a small sip, I spare him a glance to see that he does the same.

"You have a great view," I comment unnecessarily. "How long have you been here?"

"Too long," he said, surprising me. "I'm in the midst of restoring my old house and it's taking longer than I thought. I do like it here but I can't wait to have a more permanent nest."

I nodded, trying to understand. I took another sip and prayed that it wouldn't stain my teeth.

"So," he drawled after a moment, "what's your favorite color?"

After a second of mindless smiling at the question, I said, "Green, I think. And yours?"

"Black." I quirked an eyebrow. "I think black is very suiting. What's your middle name?"

"Are we playing twenty questions?" I asked. "And it's Ellen."

"I just feel like asking questions," he answered. "Mine's Arthur."

"Bruce Arthur Wayne," I recited aloud, tasting the texture of it. "It's a good name."

"Thank you."

The questions continued and as they progressed, they became heavier and more story, and therefore, past oriented. It was dangerous territory but we treaded carefully.

"First kiss," he urged, making me laugh from the side of the couch I was leaned against.

"Oh, God," I cursed, before licking my lips and trying to remember. "Seventh—No, eighth grade. I was at a school dance and my friend George pulled me aside and kissed me underneath the bleachers."

"That's it?" Bruce questioned. I gave a little shrug with my shoulders and looked away in embarrassment, smiling a little to myself.

"What can I say? It was magical. What about you?" I asked. Our back-and-forth method was working well enough and it was only fair, after all.

"I was twelve," he began, pausing to drink from his cup. "And it was with…Tanya Whitney."

A small scoff of a laugh left me. "What was her last name?"

This caused Bruce to smile and shake his head at my child-esque manner.

Ignoring my derisive question, he continued. "Alfred made me attend this birthday party and they were all playing spin-the-bottle. I only played because the girl I wanted to kiss was playing."

"Aww," I sounded, smiling widely. He gave me a look that made me laugh.

"Anyway, it was _awful_." I laughed harder. "She-She tried to put her tongue in my mouth. It was _the most_ disturbing moment at that point in my life. It was awful, just awful." The shiver that went through him made me laugh even harder. "Will you stop laughing at me?"

"I'm sorry," I choked out, trying to look at him through the collecting moisture in my eyes. I sniffed and tried to collect myself. "I am… sorry that that happened to you. Honest."

Taking in a few deep breaths, I began to calm. And after I calmed myself, I remembered something and asked, "So who's Alfred?"

Bruce paused for the smallest of seconds. "He's my butler and guardian." That was all the info he gave me. Not how Alfred became his guardian or why, but it was still enough to keep me from pressing the matter.

"That was your worst kiss then?" I voiced instead.

"Yes." The readiness to admit it made me giggle.

"What about your worst kiss?"

"Hmm," I hummed, placing down my now empty glass on the coffee table. I thought back to all the guys I've dated and all the kisses and whatnots I've had. After a moment, I finally said, "I don't think I've ever had one."

"That's not fair!" he accused, looking shocked.

"Well," I drawled, "I don't know. I've had bad relationships, not bad kisses."

It got quiet and I wondered if I had revealed too much. I didn't exactly say what fell under the category of a bad relationship but obviously they didn't work so they were all kind of bad. But that's not true! Some were good, real good, and others were bad, real bad. Oh, God, don't let him question about past relationships.

Not wanting to bring up past relationships, I asked the first question that popped into my head.

"Ever kiss a man?"

I expected an automatic "NO" but was surprised with the silence. Looking closely, I saw that Bruce was blushing. My jaw dropped.

"Oh, my God, you have!"

"_He_ kissed _me_!" he automatically defended.

I began to laugh. I couldn't help myself and I knew that if I didn't stop soon, I'd end up hurting his pride.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I chanted, fanning my face. "I'm sorry. Why don't you explain yourself?"

"I will." As my temperature regulated and the tears disappeared, I saw clearly that he was only mocking anger. From what little I know of Bruce, he doesn't seem like the type to get annoyed or upset with teasing. But then again, I've only known him for so long.

"I was a sophomore in college and I lived in an apartment with two other boys, Stephen and Ronny. Well, it was Super Bowl Sunday and Ronny had invited a few friends over. I've never cared for football so I was just eating." I smothered my chuckles so he could continue.

"Well, I was in the kitchen getting something to drink, when Stephen walks in. He comes to stand a bit in front of me and puts his hands on my neck, like this." He demonstrated how the hands were placed on himself, which made me far happier than if he were to do that on me. He removed his hands after I got the gist of it. "I didn't have a lot of friends in school and the few that were my friends were pretty weird, Stephen included.

"But he's holding me and I say, 'What are you doing?' because I sincerely have no idea. He says, 'Are you ready for the magic?' Of course, I'm like 'No,' because I have no idea what that means.

"And then he leans forward and gives me a peck on the lips."

I guffawed but quickly shut my mouth to hear what else Bruce had to say.

"He pulls away and I go 'What the hell?' to which he responds with, 'It was good, right?'"

"That is hysterical," I say through my peals of laughter. His persona of himself and Stephen were such a contrast and his ability to fall into the act of it happening was adorable. "That is, by far, one of the greatest stories I've ever been told."

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Our eyes connected as he took a sip of his wine.

Forcing myself to look away, I tried to ignore the intense fluttering that erupted in my stomach and my throat. I cleared my through and frantically thought of a way out of this situation.

"What time is it?" I ask, trying to sound casual and tired.

"It's a little after one," Bruce answered.

"Really?" Was it really so late? I would have never guessed.

"Do you have somewhere to be in the morning?"

"Well, no, not exactly. I just wasn't expecting for it to be so late."

"It is rather late and I've got a meeting in the morning." This made me unbelievably relieved. "Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"Yeah," I replied with a small nod and smile.

The seven minutes it took for the taxi to arrive were the most nerve-wracking of the entire night. I didn't want to spend the night because I didn't want to push on this relationship. And I really like Bruce. Like, I _really_ like him. He's sophisticated and smart and sweet. He has almost every attribute I'm looking for in a man—

which is also why I wanted to stay.

He walked me down to the lobby of the hotel and then to the taxi as it arrived. We stood facing each other for a moment, until I finally forced words forward.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight. I had a really nice time."

"I'm glad," he replied with a smile. He then leaned forward a placed a kiss on my cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow."

I smiled, nodded, and nestled into the back seat.

The taxi driver seemed to already know my address as he began to drive. I watched the outside world melt by and wondered if he would call. I hope he will. That kiss wasn't enough.

Reaching my apartment, I attempted to pay the driver only to find that it was already paid for. It made me feel reasonably assured that Bruce was as invested as I was.


	11. NoGos, Glee, and a Confrontation

**So first, an apology. I don't have a good enough excuse except that I've been busy and distracted and have lacked motivation. All I can say is I'm sorry.**

**This bit is for anyone who's seen THE DARK KNIGHT RISES, SO STOP READING THIS BIT IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT. SERIOUSLY, JUST SKIP STRAIGHT TO THE STORY RIGHT NOW. RIGHT NOW. Obviously, this is an AU and at the end of this fic (and I do hope I reach the end for everyone but especially myself because God, I would love to finish something), it will be obvious as to why things played out the way they did. If not, well - ****I should be able to explain.**

**Um, so yeah. Tell me what you think. Feel free to critique (because this needs it) and again, I'm sorry. I'll try to do better next time.**

**ONWARD! **

-11-

The next week passed quickly, mainly because the ONE thing I was _really_ looking forward to didn't happen. In case it's not obvious, I'll admit that although Bruce _did_ call, we could not set up a date for that week. Our schedules just didn't agree. He promised to call and I hoped he would.

My dinner on Tuesday with Chris and his family was great. His wife, Maria, cooked and I played with his kids, and while Chris put them to bed, Maria and I talked. It was refreshing to meet someone new and so different. There was coffee and cake, and then goodbye's and promises of revisiting.

Wednesday was okay. The Joker had gotten himself into some trouble and our would-be-usual appointment was cancelled. I used the time to speak with Megan Trojeck (that first patient whose first interview I totally screwed up, remember?) and I found out that boyfriend she killed had been cheating on her. Soon afterwards, she began trashing the room and I had to call security.

Bruce called on Thursday and we had a nice chat. Maegen tried to call me on Friday but I ignored it. I know I'm being childish (possibly) but I'm honestly still too hurt to care. I went for a nice, long run after I missed her call in an attempt to rid myself of the frustration.

The weekend happened. I spent it watching Supernatural reruns and cleaning.

I got another call from Bruce on Monday, and we found that this week wasn't a go either. The best day would have been Wednesday but I knew after my lack of meeting with the Joker, he would try to make up for it so I had to decline. I went for another run after that.

Tuesday night, I sat alone in my apartment with a cup of tea and the TV on. I was waiting patiently for Glee to start. It wasn't a new episode but a guilty pleasure, and I deserve it. And I was enjoying it too—until THE MOST mood changing thing EVER happened.

The thud that came from outside my window made me want to vomit from anxiety. Someone was on my balcony—_on my balcony_! Who would—

_Jesus_ fucking_ Christ_.

Annoyed, I muted the TV and moved from my spot on the couch to the wall of windows. With my heart still racing, I pushed the curtains aside and confirmed my suspicions.

My body sagged and after wiping at my face, I unlocked the door and opened it, allowing access to the being that was seemingly waiting to be invited in.

He moved almost immediately at the unspoken invite, being more silent than I thought possible. I slid the door shut after a moment, the fall breeze too cool for my liking. I then proceeded to walk past the man to sit back in my seat. There was no point in trying to be formal or okay so I instead forced myself to be comfortable.

He didn't say anything for a moment and then I realized it was because he was looking at my TV. Mercedes and Santana were doing a number together and when I looked back at him, he looked at me and I softly bit out, "Don't judge my Glee."

He ignored that and said, "My sources tell me that you're the head psychiatrist for the Joker."

"What of it?" I asked, annoyed that it was a statement that was hard to follow up with. Why can't he just ask what he wants to ask? It's not like I'm going to lie or run away.

"The Joker is a dangerous man," he began, voice gruff and low, "Do you really think you're up for the job?"

"Well, I agreed to it, didn't I?"

"You did."

And then he didn't say anything, he just turned to leave. The glass door made an icky sound as it opened and he was polite enough to close it. I watched from my spot on the couch as he climbed onto the ledge, and jumped. Even though I knew he would be fine (_it's Batman_), it didn't stop my heart from racing or my mind from thinking that he was going to die.

The man behind that mask is suicidal. It takes some sort of mindset to be able to just jump off of a ledge like that, to know that maybe something could happen and you could die. He was fucking insane, but there was more to it than that. I mean, he came to visit me and if you look past the non-questions, he was making sure I was okay, that my choices were my own.

I'm always such a bitch to him. Maybe I should be more careful next time—if there's a next time.

* * *

Needless to say, when I saw the Joker that next day, I really wasn't in the mood. The Joker was doing his whole non-talking stint and I took the opportunity to really understand the severity of the man and this situation.

I knew from the files and his words that he was dangerous. There's no other way to put. He put people into strange scenarios and people died if they didn't win, and people died if they didn't play. All of his actions led to death and he had a thing for fire. And besides words that made me shiver and want to vomit, he hadn't actually done anything to me.

What if, because of this, I'm really _not_ the one for the job? I mean, I really don't understand. I don't understand this man and I can only interpret his actions and make assumptions.

"You're thin**k**_ing_ too mu_ch_," he suddenly says, bringing me back to the room. His dark eyes stemming and prying into my being, but I didn't find myself uncomfortable. I was just unaffected, which made me worry and think more on the predicament. "Do ya need to _share_?"

I pouted my lips at that. I didn't have anyone to share with, and there was no one I wanted to share with. It's just me and my thoughts and concerns, and that's not really fair.

"Just thinking," I finally say, lifting my pen and letting out a large sigh. There was nothing else to say, but that didn't stop him from continuing to stare at me.

"Do _you_ wanna share?" I fired back, trying to give him the same scrutinizing look he was giving me. It didn't work, and that became very apparent when he smirked at me. Yes, _smirked_.

* * *

It was closer to seven when I finally got to my apartment. The weather was really starting to change, and then I remember how far north I was, and then I was berating myself for not remembering. And I was so distracted by _the weather_, that I almost didn't realize that the lights in my apartment were on, and that I familiar figure was sitting on my couch.

I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Maegen—she looked immaculate. Even from this poor angle, it was obvious. She was dressed in a black suede jacket and form fitting jeans, a pair of nude Manolo Blahnik high heels adorning her pedicured feet. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, ending at the same length as the collar of her coat, and was pin straight. And when she turned to acknowledge my presence, I saw that her facial features were perfectly highlighted by her light layers of makeup.

The snap of the door broke me from my frozen stupor and I realized I was trapped. I could run away—

"Hi," Maegen said as she rose to stand, her movement fluid and graceful. She sounded timid, which sincerely surprised me, but my eyes immediately wandered to her midsection. Beneath her simple shirt, I thought I saw a bit of a bump—a _baby_ bump. But then I realized that I was staring pretty hard and that I was probably imagining it, because it's not like I even know how far along she really is and—

"Hey," I respond, looking into her baby blues. My arms fall to my side (because _for some reason_, I had them up poised up when I entered) and I put down my bag at the closet door. I was stiff and I was fidgeting.

_Oh, this is bad. So bad. Very bad._

"What are you doing here?" I finally ask as I straightened. I didn't really move from my spot though, too afraid of what would happen if I got closer.

"Um, we were going to have dinner." My brows furrowed at that. "I left you a voicemail last week." _OH GOD, I NEVER LISTENED TO IT._ "You never replied so I just assumed that it was doable."

I had no response or reasoning to share, so I said nothing.

She pushed up the sleeve of her jacket to view her watch, and then smiling she said, "You're a bit late but we can still find someplace—"

"How did you get in?" I interrupted, only mildly worried about my rudeness. I set my arms to cross in front of me but I kept my gaze on her.

"My name's on the lease—" DAMMIT, I FORGOT THAT TOO. "—so they gave me a key. Is something the matter?"

"You're pregnant. Like, pregnant pregnant. There's a baby in your stomach that you didn't tell me about, and oh, _YOU'RE PREGNANT_."

But I didn't say that. In fact, I didn't say anything. I merely frowned and let my tentative gaze fall to the side.

"I'm pregnant."

At the happily toned declaration, my vision snapped back to her and I saw that she was smiling. It was a faltering smile that I couldn't return. Even if I wanted to fake that there really was nothing wrong, that smile let me know she knew.

"I know."

Her face contorted and she gave a playful grimace. She nodded a bit and finally said, "I figured."

We then fell into a rather tense silence, where I stared at her and she stared at the floor.

If this was anyone else, I would've thought they were ashamed or embarrassed—but this was Maegen. Maegen doesn't feel those things. Harsh, I know, but she really doesn't. Sometimes she has vague inclinations of what it means to feel ashamed but everything about it is short term. If I were any other physiatrist who didn't know Maegen, they would say that she was covering those emotions with humor and was therefore more embarrassed, but I know Maegen. Maegen is one of the few people I know that actually has complete control over her life and doesn't allow others to dictate her actions unless she wants them to, which is probably why this betrayal stung so much. It was a conscious decision.

"Do you think we can talk about this over dinner? I'm getting really hungry."

"I'm not really hungry right now," I say with a shake of the head. Her eyes widen fractionally but I ignore that as I continue to speak. "I've had a long day and I've got work tomorrow. It's probably not a good idea that I go out tonight."

"Oh-kay." She visibly swallowed and fumbled as she reached back to the couch. She lifted a thin box and stretched out her arm to me. "I got you this."

I didn't move for a moment, wondering if I should. Her presenting the gift in such a manner was a rather desperate plea for me to approach and if I didn't approach, I'm not sure what the rejection would do to the both of us and this situation. So, vowing to be better of the two of us no matter what, I propelled myself forward.

The heels had made her taller than me, almost a full six inches, and I felt ridiculously small and sloppy as I stood so close. I took the box from her but didn't open it. "Thank you," was all I said as I placed the gift back on the couch.

"Do you want to talk about this?" she suddenly blurted, letting her cool demeanor go. The one she replaces it with is the loud counterpart and the pressure of her attitude hits me on a physical level.

"Sure! Why not! " I bark back, my volume matching hers.

And then our yelling match commenced.

**So, leave a review, yeah, maybe?**


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